


Like a Permanent Holiday

by apolla



Category: Sanditon (TV 2019), Sanditon - Jane Austen
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Patience Required, Slow Burn, is it a coffee shop AU if there just happens to be a coffee shop, is this them or is are they descendants or reincarnation or something, more like glacial
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-02-01 00:57:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 51
Words: 133,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21303656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apolla/pseuds/apolla
Summary: Sidney Parker's family have lived in Sanditon for hundreds of years. His ancestors were integral to the growth of the town back in the heyday of English seaside towns and now it falls to his brother - and therefore him - to save the town from total decline.Charlotte Heywood is young and idealistic. She has ideas and notions about how to make the world a better place. She is kind and patient with everyone...Until they steal her table in a coffee shop.In which things are the same and things are not the same, all at the same time.
Relationships: Charlotte Heywood/Sidney Parker
Comments: 2570
Kudos: 1455





	1. Like A Permanent Holiday

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly have no idea what or why, but the first line leapt out at me earlier while I was trying to do something else.
> 
> No idea what's going to happen so if there's anything you particularly want to see in a story like this, let me know. I won't guarantee it'll make it in but who knows?

'Oh wow, you live in Sanditon? You must be on permanent holiday living in a place like that!'

'Actually,' Sidney exhaled sickly sweet vape mist. 'It's like never being on holiday ever.'

The young woman's face fell, more from the sharp tone than the words. 'Oh. Well.'

'You know what Sanditon's like?' Sidney pressed. 'It's like living in a faded 1930s photograph in that it's drab, grey and there are no fucking jobs.'

She stared, taken aback at his attitude, then caught the eye of someone behind him. 'There's my friend, finally back from the toilet. This was... nice.'

Sidney Parker hardly noticed her bounce away as quickly as she could. His phone buzzed and he reflexively went straight for it.

**Tom (Parker):** WHEN ARE YOU BACK HOME NEXT.

Sidney rolled his eyes so hard that his head hurt more even than the screen glare in the dark bar.

**Me:** Is your caps lock broken again?  
**Tom (Parker):** WHAT? WHEN ARE YOU BACK?  
**Me:** Why?  
**Tom (Parker):** I'VE GOT A GREAT IDEA!!!1!  
**Me:** Of course you do. I'll probably be down in a weekend or two.  
**Tom (Parker):** THIS CAN'T WAIT THAT LONG. LONDON CAN SPEAR YOU  
**Me:** Spear?  
**Tom (Parker):** DUCKING AUTOCORRECT  
**Me:** Seriously dude, turn the fucking caps off.  
**Tom (Parker):** COME HOME MARY WILL LOOK AFTER YOU  
**Me:** She's your wife, not your fucking housekeeper.  
**Tom (Parker):** COME DOWN ON FRiday in time for the pub quiz. BriNG YoUR FIENDS.  
**Me:** Friends?  
**Tom (Parker):** Glad you agree! ByeeeE

Sidney fought the urge to throw his phone across the room. It was new and while he could easily afford to replace it, he detested waste. Instead, he drained his glass of very nice Irish whiskey, all but threw the glass back onto the bartop and stomped out into the cold night.

He couldn't be bothered to call for an Uber or try to flag a cab on a Friday night, so he ran the gauntlet of drunk smokers outside Hoxton's many bars and walked along Old Street and Clerkenwell Road until he reached Bedford Place.

As he slouched into the hallway, Sidney tried and failed to ignore the large oil painting of _Old Sanditon, 1841_ (signed by the artist, Jenny Parker Ashton) that hung on the wall immediately facing the door. 

He fucking hated Sanditon and was fairly sure Sanditon hated him in return. Such deep mutual loathing could only come from decades of practice, and it was not his fault that the universe had him born into the one family in the world that gave a damn about that sad little town.

He threw his keys into the dish on the little table under the painting and kicked his shoes off and left them there on the tiled floor.

How was he so tired and it was only Wednesday? He hadn't worked particularly late or hard this week; he hadn't partied as hard as he might. 

_ Not Going Out _was on the Dave channel and he let the inoffensively bland sitcom wash over him like so much white noise and sprawled across the sofa, illuminated only by the TV.

It was in this fashion that he fell asleep.

*

Babington laughed in his face the next morning. 'Sanditon? Seven hells, not again!' 

'Why not?'

Beyond the glass walls of Sidney's office, the work of investment banking continued, oblivious to his problems.

'Because, as you yourself have said many, many times, there is nothing to do in_ fucking Sanditon.'_

'I exaggerate.'

'You don't. Last time Crowe and I came down with you, the only form of entertainment was watching seagulls eat chips people had dropped.'

'There's a pub quiz-'

'Oh God, not some middle-aged Real Ale buff asking questions like "Who was the_ second _man on the Moon?" or "What's the smallest county in the UK?" or what have you. Spare me, Sidney.'

'Spare _me_, Babbers. We'll do some of the outdoor stuff. Weather should be good. Fresh air.'

'We won't get Crowe outside. He doesn't believe in fresh air.'

'I understand. I'll deal with Tom on my own-'

Babington sighed. 'Fine. It gives me an excuse for going back home myself.'

'Mater still giving you grief?'

'Of course.' He fluttered his eyelashes and pitched his voice higher. '"You really ought to find a nice girl. It's been long enough, Gideon!" God, she makes me want to put my fist through a window.'

'Again?'

'Ha, very funny.' Babington's phone pinged. 'Fuck. Being summoned.'

'I'll pray for you.'

'But who to?'

'Cthulhu, as usual.'

'Bugger off.'

'We'll drive down from here on Friday afternoon.'

'Afternoon?'

'Do you want to sit in Friday night traffic?'

'Fine. You're going to owe me, Parker.'

'That's a given.'

*

Friday afternoon arrived and sure enough, Sidney, Babington and the third of their group, Crowe, bundled into Sidney's Aston Martin Rapide for the journey down to Sanditon.

Traffic was slow through London but otherwise not bad, and the Aston slid into a parking space on Sanditon Promenade at 16:16 precisely. 

'I've booked us all rooms at the Alhambra Hotel.'

'With breakfast?' Crowe asked as he unfolded himself from the backseat. 'There'd better be breakfast.'

'Of course. I've even asked Mrs Miggins to make sure she's made some of the apple pie you like so much.'

Crowe's eyes lit up for a moment before he assumed a mien of disinterest. 'Good. Lead me to the bar, chaps.'

Sidney shook his head. 'I'll meet you in a bit. I'd really better see Tom first.'

Babington slapped his back. 'We can occupy ourselves for a bit.'

There were a few places Sidney was likely to find his brother. One was their ancestral home in the centre of New Sanditon (est. 1818) or the cafe on the promenade in Old Sanditon (est. 1121, probably). As the latter was closest, he dropped his bag in at the hotel and then took the short walk along the beach.

The beach was the one thing about Sanditon that Sidney really loved. Unlike Brighton and Eastbourne's pebble beaches, Sanditon was well-named for the soft sandy beach and dunes along its coast.

That said, the promenade itself had seen better days. Between the general preference of Brits to go abroad for guaranteed decent weather and the global recession, Sanditon's economy had been smashed to pieces. It was not unlike many a seaside town in that regard, but Sanditon's supposed golden age was long-ago and short-lived.

Every third shop unit on the promenade was boarded up. Two were advertising closing down sales. The restaurants and cafes seemed to be doing all right, but if _ The Coffee Cabin _was representative (and he suspected it was) then all the business owners were up to their eyes in debt and just a few bad moments away from ruin.

The Coffee Cabin was Tom Parker's latest pride and joy, and Sidney had to admit the job was well done. It was a small but perfectly formed coffee shop in the old Victorian train station (trains ceased 1967, thanks Dr Beeching) and the picture windows looked out onto the beach. Tom and Mary had done a good job fitting the place out and it was reliably busy most days.

'Sidney!' Mary all but leapt over the counter to wrap him in a welcome hug. His sister-in-law often seemed to be the only person in the world - except perhaps Babington - who never wanted anything from him except himself. 'It's good to see you! You look tired. Let me get you a fresh muffin-'

'I'm fine. Is he here?'

'Up at the big house. Drink?'

'Thanks.'

Mary made him a black coffee and added a little mint syrup without needing to be asked.

Sidney settled himself into a cosy armchair by the windows and took a deep breath. For a few precious, lovely moments, all was calm and well. 

'I was sitting there.'


	2. Now Mark What Did Follow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is being written quickly and without much consideration for the usual rules of grammar and whatnot. If you see anything glaring, let me know.
> 
> Next up... the pub quiz...

He looked up. A young woman with long chestnut hair, big brown eyes and a generic Ramones t-shirt was scowling at him. 'Excuse me?'

'I was sitting there.'

'Well, clearly, you aren't now.'

'I just went to the toilet!'

'How was I meant to know that?'

'By all the crap all over the table? Unless these are your books?'

Sidney looked down. He had not noticed, but there was indeed a collection of textbooks and papers strewn across the table. She had a point, but he would not give her the satisfaction.

'Well,' he said. 'I'm here now. There's a seat right there.'

'Maybe I don't want some random dude sat at my table while I work?'

He did not move except to sip his coffee. 'Oh well.'

'This is my table,' she reiterated. 'Move.'

At the time and for years to come, Sidney would not be able to explain the impulse that led him to lean back, smirk and say 'Make me.'

'I was here first.'

'Were you? Actually, were you?' I don't remember you being here on opening day, or before that, screwing your little brass nameplate to the table.'

'That is not how this works.'

'How what works?'

'Coffee shops, idiot.'

'You left.'

'To piss!'

'Charming.'

'Fuck you.'

'Let me finish my drink first.'

'You're disgusting.'

Mary had come over and flicked his ear. 'No, he's Sidney. Get up, Sidney. There's a perfectly good table over there.'

'This is my table,' he sulked. There was no reason to be sulky, of course, and in any other situation, he would have moved without incident. He was perhaps embarrassed for not having noticed her things in the first place.

'Why should I move for some _student_?'

'Because if you don't, I'll let Alicia paint your nails again. And you'll never drink in here ever again.'

'You can't ban me from a café I part-own!'

'Watch me, Parker. Or, you could just move and let Charlotte get on with her work.'

'Fine.' He made a great show of standing up with his drink, although a couple of drips from the mug stained the pages of one of _Charlotte's _books. He bowed to her. 'Milady, the table is yours.'

'I'm not a student,' she said as he moved away. 'But you're definitely an arsehole.'

If Mary was biting back a laugh, she at least had the grace to keep it hid. Sidney slumped into a seat at a table under a photograph of _ Sanditon, 1912 _ (photographer, Louise Parker). It was a small table, and he couldn't stretch his legs out or see the sea.

*

Charlotte had a lot of work to do and precious little time in which to do it, but she was so enraged that there was little chance of finding focus. Why were the handsome ones always such dicks? Was it because they were handed everything they ever wanted without having to try? 

She shook her head and tried to focus on the page in front of her. The galleys were all wrong - she had no idea how the team had missed so many errors at this stage in the process. Some had surely been reintroduced in error? The alternative - that they had really, _really _screwed up - didn't bear thinking about.

Charlotte shot off an irritated email about the problem to her boss and then sat back to sip her tea. It was lukewarm, and she'd left the bag in the pot, so the gunpowder green tea was so bitter she might as well have used actual gunpowder. 

Typical. She started to gather the books and notes back into her bag and felt the arsehole dude staring at her, scowling like he was planning the best way to murder her and hide the body. Over a table in a coffee shop.

'Done, Charlotte?' Mary called out from behind the counter. 

'As much as I can do.'

'See you later, then?'

'Of course. Thank you, as always!' 

Charlotte's walk took her along the prom, and she let the fresh, clean sea air cleanse her of her frustrations - a little. Fishing her keys from her bag, she unlocked the bright blue door at 1 Waterloo Terrace and tromped up the stairs to Flat D.

She really needed to tidy up and do some laundry, but she was exhausted and let the heavy bag drop to the floor with a thud. If she was going out that evening, she needed to sleep for a little while.

*


	3. QuizTeam Aguilera

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the super comments so far. This latest chapter is an affectionate homage to the great British cultural institution that is the pub quiz.

The Denham Arms advertised itself as the _most ancient pub in Sanditon. _This was not exactly a significant achievement, given that only three pubs remained open in the entire town, and one of those was one of the prefabricated flat-roofed 60s monstrosities that were debatably even less charming than a Wetherspoons.

The residents of Sanditon had at least fought off the planning permission for a Wetherspoons and so the choices on a Friday night were the Denham Arns (est. 1521, latest building 1832), the Coach & Horses on the London Road (lovely Sunday lunch but otherwise too far out) or the Countess of Worcester (prefab 60s monstrosity).

Thus, anyone wanting a decent drink and chat on a Friday night really only had the Denham Arms to choose from and with the pub quiz too, it was quite a crush by the time a refreshed Charlotte Heywood arrived.

Charlotte was on a team with Mary and Tom as always, and James Stringer had joined them to make up numbers. She didn't know him well yet, but he seemed pleasant enough.

'What're we calling the team?' he asked, setting a tray of overflowing beers down on the table before handing each to its respective owner.

'And in First Place!' crowed Tom.

'What?'

'Think of it, no matter how badly we might do, we're still _And in First Place!_.'

Mary sighed. 'That's so disruptive.'

'You found that on the internet, didn't you?' Charlotte asked.

'If not, then howsabout "Quizteam Aguilera'?'

'You're too proud of these,' she replied. 'But Quizteam Aguilera is funny.'

Essential matters of team name sorted, she settled down to consider their opposition. Tom's brother Arthur was at another table of his rugby mates - they would be loud and funny but would not be much competition. The team from Lansdowne's Farm were always tough - the lads were sports experts, while Mrs Lansdowne knew more about movies than anyone Charlotte had ever met. 

There were a few other teams she didn't recognise. Tourists, perhaps, looking for a diversion. And in the back corner, the arsehole from earlier in the afternoon, and two mates who appeared more interested in draining their glasses as quickly as possible. One was a skinny rake with a mop of black curling hair who seemed to have been lifted right out of a 19th century novel about opium addicts; the other radiated poshness in a way that can only be developed over generations of tactical inbreeding and public school trauma, but he had a pleasant enough sense about him.

'Who_ is _that dick?' she asked.

'Oh, I meant to say earlier,' Mary laughed. 'That's Tom's brother. Sidney.'

Hang on! _That _was Sidney _Parker_? No, it could not be. She'd heard enough about him over her time in Sanditon to have built up a picture that was closer to perfection than humanity. Sidney could never do too much for his family - even though he was never here - and Sidney was the brightest and the wittiest and the handsomest of all the Parkers! So, who was this arrogant bag of dicks? Could they really be the same man?

'Sidney!' Tom bellowed, waving over at him.

The patient irritation on Sidney's face could only be that of a brother well-used to a labrador puppy of a man like Tom. It had to be him after all.

Sidney saluted Tom but did not otherwise move.

'We're done for now,' Tom said. 'Sidney knows_ everything_.'

'Hey, we're not down and out yet,' said James. 'I know some stuff.'

'Pray for Britpop and architectural standards then,' Mary joked. 'We'll do our best and have fun and winning doesn't matter.'

*

Three rounds in and Charlotte had never wanted to win anything so badly in her entire life - not even the three-legged race on school sport's day when it was her and Alison versus Emma Bloody Edwards and Layla the Bruiser Burton.

Sidney's team had called themselves "_U__niversity Challenged" _and looked altogether too pleased with themselves about it. 

Round One had been "Firsts": Quizteam Aguilera scored 10/10 to University Challenged's 9/10.

Round Two was "Sporting Legends", which was mostly about horse racing. Sidney's team went 10 for 10 while her own team scored a paltry 4.

Round Three, "Double Acts" had been theirs for the taking - 8 out of 10 - compared to the other team's 4. Charlotte was glad for her mother's love of 1970s BBC light entertainment for giving her a better understanding of Morecambe & Wise, The Two Ronnies, and Mike & Bernie Winters than anyone her age had any right to.

Every time Sidney's team got a question right, they bellowed loudly - Charlotte assumed it was some kind of school or college chant - and every time her own team were wrong, they did the same. It was infuriating.

'He's very competitive,' Mary told her. 'All the Parkers are in their way. Tom manifests it in his obsession over the town itself. Arthur always wants to be the funniest man in the room and Sidney... he must _always_ be right.'

'Even when he's _very wrong_?'

Tom guffawed at that: 'Especially then!'

The two teams proved evenly matched throughout the quiz and when it came down to the final results...

The quizmaster, having announced the rankings of all but the top two teams, cleared his throat and announced, in a magnificently Town Crier voice: 'QuizTeam Aguilera, 78! University Challenged... 78!'

A groan and cheer all at once from around the pub as other teams reconciled themselves to their loss or celebrated better-than-expected results.

The quizmaster directed his attention to the two teams:'Nominate someone from your teams to come up and take part in the tiebreak.'

Tom didn't hesitate: 'Off you go, Charlotte.'

James grinned: 'Yes, you go, Charlotte.'

'God no, please. Not me.'

'You're the best person for it,' Mary assured her. 

Without options except setting fire to her team's victory, Charlotte stood and approached the quizmaster with all the gaiety of a French nobleman heading to a revolutionary guillotine.

Sidney Parker was already stood with the quizmaster, waiting for her with a cocked eyebrow that spoke of contempt.

'You again.'

She sighed. 'Yes, me again.'

'Now,' the quizmaster was far more concerned with matters of quizzing than of any conflict. 'I'm going to ask you a question and the person who comes closest to the correct answer will win. No conferring with your teammates. Right?'

They both nodded with the formality of the solemn occasion.

The quiz dude held up a hand to silence everyone. 'How large, in square kilometres, is Australia's landmass?'

'Including Tasmania?' Sidney asked.

'Does it make a difference?' Charlotte retorted.

'Probably not,' he conceded.

'Miss, why don't you tell me your answer, then I'll take Sidney's?'

They turned away from Sidney.'

'I think it's about 7million square metres,' she told him.

The quizmaster did the same with Sidney.

'Right! We have a winner. The question was "how big is Australia in square metres?" QuizTeam Aguilera answered seven million square kilometres. University Challenged said ten million square kilometres.'

A pause for dramatic effect. 'The answer is "seven million, six hundred and seventeen thousand, nine hundred and thirty square kilometres. Therefore, I declare QuizTeam Aguilera this week's winners!'

Tom let out a loud whooping cheer as everyone else applauded politely. Charlotte felt a hot blush spread across her face at the victory. Sidney Parker scowled at her and flounced back to his table, where he slumped down and drained his pint of whatever he was drinking.

The quizmaster thrust their prize at Charlotte - a large box of Waitrose chocolates - and she returned to the table to raucous cheers and applause from the others.

'How ever did you know that?' Mary asked. 'I wouldn't have had the first idea!'

Charlotte blushed, unused to such praising attention. 'I edited a geography textbook last year. Couldn't remember the exact number, but...'

'Close enough!' Tom bellowed, grabbing the box of chocolates from her and immediately tearing into it. 'Victory is ours! For once, Sidney has to console himself with second place!'

With all the maturity he could summon, Tom stuck his middle finger up at his brother. Sidney, still sulking in his corner, his e-cig already hanging between his lips, looked back at Tom, rolled his eyes and totally ignored him.

'Sore loser?' Charlotte asked her teammates.

'He's not used to losing,' James said. 'Even at primary school, he always won... everything. Jammy bastard.'

'That's not true,' Mary stuck up for her brother-in-law. 'Sidney's had his share of difficult times, just like anyone. More, in fact.'

'Doesn't mean he's entitled to be a dick,' Charlotte replied. 'But, who cares when we've got a ginormous box of chocolates to share?'

Their evening continued in a happily relaxed manner. They ate their chocolates together while Charlotte and James lightly debated the relative merits of DC versus Marvel, The Beatles versus The Stones and argued about the likely content of _The Rise of Skywalker_.

Just after ten o'clock, a shadow fell over the table: Sidney Parker.

'Congratulations,' he said, sounding to Charlotte like the dictionary definition of "begrudging" and looking like a bulldog licking piss off a wasp. 'Lucky guess.'

'Luck,' she returned, 'had nothing to do with.'

He reached over and took a chocolate - the penultimate remaining - from the Box of Victory. 'If you say so.'

'Sidney,' Mary intervened, as always. 'Be nice. Charlotte's new to town and-'

'No, you don't say? Is Sanditon taking in waifs, strays and students now?'

'I'm not a student! And even if I was, so what? What crawled up your arse and died such an agonising death?'

'Now, hang on-'

'No! Tom and Mary have done nothing but rave about you for months and in a handful of hours you've just been a total douchebag. If you can't say anything nice-'

'Then I'd be mute.'

'And what a tragedy that would be.'

Sidney's hand had been resting on the back of Mary's chair. He now gripped so hard that his knuckles went completely white. He turned his gaze in such a way that he seemed to be looking right through her, consciously choosing to act like she didn't exist. 'Mary, I'll be around until Monday morning, I expect. Let me know if you'd like me to take the children out for a while at some point.'

'Charlotte's already taking them to the beach tomorrow,' she told him, and he scowled at Charlotte now, like she was somehow responsible for the ruination of his life. 'But come over in the afternoon and stay for dinner. They miss their Uncle Sidney.'

'I miss them. About two o'clock tomorrow, then.' He gripped his e-cig between his teeth. 'See you then.'

Sidney Parker, having totally wrecked QuizTeam Aguilera's victorious mood, stalked outside in the direction of the smokers' shelter.

'Nice guy,' Charlotte sniped, seething.

'He's prickly,' Mary conceded. 'But he has the best heart of anyone I know.'

Charlotte bit back several harsh retorts and resolved to keep out of his malevolent way.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "And In First Place...", "QuizTeam Aguilera" and "Unversity Challenged" are all real life pub quiz team names I've either heard or used. "And In First Place" causes universal confusion and is basically the quickest way to troll everyone else all night. You will make no friends, but it's hilarious.
> 
> I got the Australia answer from Wikipedia and make no guarantees of accuracy.


	4. What Can I Say, Except...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea what's going on or why but it's good fun to write.

Saturday morning brought crisp sunshine of the kind that does not exactly warm one, but rather takes the edge off the cold. The summer was not yet quite upon the British Isles and it showed.

Charlotte and the Parker children - Jenny, Alicia and Henry - paid little attention to the temperature, using strategic games of It to keep warm until the hour grew later and the sun was high enough to provide warmth as much as illumination.

For Charlotte, who had slept quite badly in the end, it was an exhausting morning even though she loved it. At half-past eleven, they returned to the Coffee Cabin where their mother provided marshmallow-studded hot chocolate in mugs so large that Alicia and Henry couldn't even get their hands around them.

'Uncle Siddy!' Henry almost let his mug crash to the floor, but Charlotte grabbed it just in time.

_ Uncle Siddy _was indeed present: slouched at the contentious window table. He looked expensively scruffy and to a trained eye, incredibly hungover. His friends were slumped at the table, looking even worse.

Sidney only just reacted in time to catch a three-year-old moving at high velocity. 

For a moment, Charlotte expected him to scold Henry and drop him back to his feet, and she primed herself to intervene.

To her astonishment, Sidney neatly flipped Henry so that he landed quite neatly on his uncle's lap. He pressed two kisses onto Henry's face, then hugged him close. 'Hello, lad.'

'I missed you, Uncle Siddy! Jenny and Alicia say they did too, but I missed you the _mostest_.'

'Well,' Sidney replied, 'That might be true, but I bet I still missed you even more than that.'

'Yeah?'

'Yes.' At this, Henry dropped his head onto Sidney's shoulder and let out a happy little hum. 'Mummy told me you like nursery now.'

'Didn't like it at first but I like it now. Miss Amber is the nicest lady in the whole wide world!' Henry paused. 'Except Charlotte, who is the _nicest_, nicest!'

Hearing her name, Sidney's gaze snapped to her. At sight of her watching them, his spine tensed a moment. 'Well, I'm sure that's true, Henry.'

'Yeah...' Henry let out a great yawn and promptly fell asleep where he sat nestled with his uncle.

'What did you do to my nephew?' Sidney asked her.

Anger flared again. 'Do to him? What?'

'It was a joke, woman.'

'Don't _woman _me.'

Nearby, the skinny one of Sidney's friends sniggered. 

'I merely meant that it must have been a very active morning.'

'Sure.'

'We been on the beach!' Alicia cut in, upper lip smeared with chocolate milk. 'We played for_ ages_, Uncle Sidney! It was super.'

'I'm glad of that.' He leaned over to kiss his niece hello and came back with chocolate milk on his face. 'Now, is it true that Henry missed me the most?'

Charlotte thought this a cruel and arrogant thing to say, but Alicia just laughed. 'Oh yes! Henry talks about you all the time and always wants to know when you're coming home. I'm old enough to know that you always, always come back so I don't need to worry. But...'

She paused and tugged Sidney's sleeve. 

'Yes, lovely?' he asked, far more gently than Charlotte would've given him credit for.

Alicia sniffled. 'Well... I did _really_ miss you, Uncle Sidney. Mummy and Daddy are very nice but they don't give me piggyback rides like you do!'

'Oh, we're just_ very nice_?' Mary called from the counter. 

Alicia rolled her eyes, surely learnt from Uncle Sidney. 'Oh Mummy, you're silly. Uncle Sidney isn't as old and boring as you!'

Charlotte couldn't help laughing at that.

Sidney fixed Alicia with a look. 'Alicia, what's the First Rule?'

She sighed. 'Be kind.'

'Is it kind to call Mummy silly?'

"No...'

'Indeed. And Mummy isn't boring, and she's not _ever _so old.'

'Fine.'

'Thank you. Now Leesha, will you do me a small favour?'

'Of course, Uncle Sidney!'

'Hand me Henry's hot chocolate. If he's not going to drink it, I will. I need the sugar, I think.'

Alicia bounced over to Charlotte and plucked Henry's mug from her hands. Charlotte missed the warmth of it but soon found another drink pressed into her hands.

'Thank you for this morning,' Mary said. 'It's always hard to get Saturday morning cover in here.'

'My pleasure. I can think of fewer more enjoyable ways to spend my Saturday morning than with the Three Amigos.'

'Sleeping?' Mary suggested. 'I remember sleep with a kind of fond nostalgia.'

'True. They were really very good for me.'

'Oh, they're always good for _you,’_' Mary teased. 'It's me and Tom that they're hellions with.'

'I can hang out a bit longer if you want,' Charlotte said. 'If you need me to.'

'You're sweet but, now Sidney's here, I won't be able to peel them away.'

Charlotte's attention returned in his direction, where Henry was still fast asleep on him and Jenny was telling him - in great detail - about her school tortoise. For the first time since they'd met, he lacked any kind of anger about him, and it was quite a transformation.

'He prickly,' Mary said softly. 'Like I said. But he has the best heart. Those three worship him, you know. But I rather think the feeling is mutual.' 

'Mummy!'

Mary sighed. 'Yes, Jenny?'

'Can Uncle Sidney take us home? He said he'll watch _Moana_ with us! We haven't watched it even _ once _ this week.'

'If Uncle Sidney doesn't mind watching Moana _again,_ then all right.'

'I don't mind.'

'Have you got your keys for our house?'

'Nope.'

'I've got mine,' Charlotte said without thinking. 'I can walk that way and let you all in.'

Logistics solved, they made their way back along the seafront to Tom and Mary's house.

It was, by modern standards, a very large house. Built in the early 19th century, Trafalgar House had been in the family for its whole history. It had been partitioned a couple of times over the decades, but the larger part of the whole still remained a family home - if an old and creaking one.

Charlotte and Sidney did not talk all the way from the promenade. Sidney carried still-sleeping Henry and they both listened to the steady stream of chatter from Jenny and Alicia, which included some brief snatches of songs from _Moana_.

'Will you watch with us, Charlotte?' Jenny asked. 'You love _Moana_ too.'

'I do, but it's your time with your uncle now.' In truth, although she did like Moana very much (the water always made her cry), she had no desire to watch it _yet again, _and with Sidney Parker to boot.

'Oh, please!'

'Please, Charlotte!'

So, Charlotte found herself sitting down to watch _Moana _with someone she'd have happily punched the night before.

Within a short period of time, she was reassessing her opinion. The man knew almost all the words to every song and seemed to actually enjoy the experience. Henry woke up partway through and remained snuggled up except when he needed to use the toilet and insisted on Sidney helping, which he did without even an eye-roll.

After_ Moana _finished, she was about to get up to leave when an immortal phrase was uttered by one or other of the children: 'Can we watch _Frozen_ next, Uncle Sidney?'

Naturally, this was echoed by the other girl. Henry seemed less interested in_ Frozen _than his older sisters until they reminded him of Olaf. 

'Olaf!' Henry bounced excitedly, threw his head back and cracked Sidney square in the nose.

'Ow! Fu- owww' Sidney clutched at his nose and inevitably removed it to find blood running down his palm.

Jenny screamed; Alicia turned green; Henry burst into tears.

For a moment, all was chaos until Charlotte remembered who she was.

'Jenny, look after Henry a minute while I help Uncle Sidney. Alicia, run to the bathroom if you're going to be sick. Parker, with me.'

She all but frogmarched Sidney into the Parkers' very nice open plan kitchen and pushed him to sit down on a stool.

'Don't tip your head back!' she snapped upon seeing him do just that. 'Pinch your nose just above the nostrils. Sit forward, for God's sake.'

She busied herself with finding a Tupperware tub, which she handed him. 'Bleed into that.'

The fridge had an ice maker in the door, and she filled a ziplock bag with fresh ice and once she had it wrapped in a tea towel (Sanditon: Stay Awhile!), she applied it to Sidney's nose.

'Does it feel broken?' she asked.

'No.'

'Are you sure?'

'Yes, I'm sure. I know what a broken nose feels like. That was just a crunch.'

Henry appeared in the doorway, tear-stained and stricken with guilt. 'Uncle Siddy?'

'I'll be all right, lad.'

'I'm sorry!' Henry burst into tears again.

'I know that, sweet boy. It was an accident. Accidents happen, don't they?'

Henry nodded, quite the saddest boy in the world at that moment. Then, he smiled just a little. 'You look really silly, Uncle Siddy.'

Sidney laughed. 'I'm sure I do.'

Charlotte now watched as Sidney explained the reason for the ice to Henry in such a way that a three-year-old would understand. By the time he was done, the nosebleed was controlled and Henry was consoled.

Instead of _Frozen_, Jenny and Alicia agreed to sit and watch _Octonauts_ by Henry's request.

*

Mary arrived home at four o'clock to find her children peacefully watching_ Octonauts_, her brother-in-law maimed but cheerful and Charlotte asleep in an armchair.

'What happened here?'

'It's a long story,' Sidney whispered over Henry's head.

'Did Charlotte do that to you? I could hardly blame her.'

'Henry, it was an accident, and why? I've done nothing-'

'You've been incredibly rude!'

'So has she!'

'In response _to you_! She's one of the loveliest people in the world.'

'Yeah? Doesn't show.'

'Because you were, I repeat, rude!'

'Who even_ is _she, Mary? I've been away a couple of months and she's installed like a member of the family? Really-'

'It has not been a _couple _of months, Sidney! You haven't come down here for _six months_. That's a long time for the children. Charlotte, if you must know, moved here in December - after the Christmas holidays you found an excuse to miss - and she's become a very dear friend to us.'

'In December? What student moves in-'

'She's not a student! How many times?"

'She's not old enough to be a _proper_ adult.'

'She's twenty-five! What an idiot you are sometimes!'

'She had all those textbooks out...'

'She works for a small educational publisher. She's an editor, you absolute _tool _ .' This last part was hissed _sotto voce _to avoid young ears.

'She looks like she's about 12.'

'So what?'

'So nothing. Just saying.'

Mary considered him for a moment long enough to make him squirm and look away. 'You want some fresh ice for that?'

'No, I'll be fine.'

Mary moved towards the kitchen: 'I'll get you some fresh ice.'

'Why do people ask me questions if they're not going to bother listening to the answer?'

'Politeness!' she called back. 'You may have heard of it.'

'It'll never catch on.'

*


	5. Saturday Night’s All Right for Sniping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't forgotten the other two - they're just on hold while I smash out some of this. At least with this I'm not having to check words to see if they're anachronistic for the Regency! Busy week at work has meant I've not had as much time for fic as I'd like.

Sidney hadn't looked in a mirror for a while, but if the hooting laughter he received from Babington and Crowe was anything to go by, he was quite a sight. 

They were waiting for him in the faded glory of the Alhambra Hotel guests' bar. The dark wood panelling and brass fittings gave the place a cosy sense but the wallpaper and carpet had seen much better days and the atmosphere was flat. A TV on the wall was showing _Match of the Day_ on mute.

'Did that mouthy bint do that?' Crowe asked, already slurring a little at five o'clock on a Saturday afternoon. 

'We don't call young women _mouthy bints_, Crowe.' Sidney slid into a chair and waved over to the bartender. 'And no, she didn't.'

'Then what on earth happened?' Babington leaned forward to examine him a little closer.

'Well, I could tell you the truth, but then I'd have to kill you.' He turned to the bartender. 'Bushmills, one ice cube. Double. Thank you.'

'She punched you,' Crowe guessed. 'She looks the type. Militant feminist.'

'She didn't. She's not the worst person in the world,' he conceded. 'The niblings love her, and they're choosy little buggers. Anyone willing to sit through _Moana_ while they squeak along with it must be all right.'

'Quite a transformation.' Babington sipped at his brandy. 'You were ready to strangle her last night.'

'I was not.'

'Yes, you were. You've always been a sore loser-'

'Well, I have so little practice with it.'

'Dick. You really looked like you wanted to kill her.'

'Or something else,' Crowe added. 'The something else being-'

'We know,' Sidney cut in. 'And no, _neither _of those. She's just annoying.'

'The Tracy/Hepburn of it all,' Babington muttered.

'Pardon?'

'Nothing, old chap.' he nodded at the freshly arrived drink. 'Catch up. If we must be in Sanditon on a Saturday night, we might as well get pissed.'

Sidney stared down into the golden swirl. 'Aye. Slaínte, arseholes.'

They sat drinking a while. Off-season Sanditon was slow and quiet, not at all anything like London.

That said, just after half-past six, a pair of new guests arrived. Their suitcases - all eight of them - were matching Louis Vuitton and the two were both tall, thin white people wearing identical sneers. The young man was sandy blond with narrowed blue eyes that saw everything through a prism of contempt. The woman, on the other hand, was a Titianlike goddess-

'Babington, are you aware you said that out loud?' Crowe snickered. 

'She _is_,' Babington breathed out. 'I've never seen a woman like her.'

'We see women like that _every day.' _

'No...' He stood and his friends could only watch him approach.

Crowe took another gulp of his Long Island Iced Tea. 'Poor tragic lad. His whole future ahead of him...'

Sidney smirked in return and watched as Babington approached the woman. He could not hear what was said, but the body language was enough to tell him that Babington would return to their table soon, and without success. 

Babington did, looking banjaxed beyond belief. 'She's outstanding.'

Crowe scowled. 'You're weird.'

'Who is she?' Sidney asked, trying not to stare as the new guests checked in. 

'Her name is _Esther_. That chap is her step-brother. They're visiting their aunt. Sounds liked Denham or Denholm, or something.'

'Denham?' Sidney asked, sitting up. 'That old bat?'

'You know her?'

'Of course I do. The only family in this town older than us. They had that big old pile Sanditon House until they gave it to the National Trust after the war.'

Babington nodded solemnly. 'A lot of us had to do that.'

'You didn't,' Crowe reminded him. 'Chez Babs is as yet unsullied by the trample of tourist footsteps.'

'True, but I can empathise. She's... enchanting, isn't she?'

'I can't see it,' Sidney admitted. 'But you do you, Babbers.'

'I shall.'

'She didn't seem interested.'

'A show, I'm sure of it.'

'If you say so.'

They remained in the bar for a while longer, wondering if the woman and her step-brother might emerge at some point. At seven o'clock, they gave up.

'What does one do in Sanditon on a Saturday night?' Crowe asked, patting his pockets for his key.

Sidney handed Crowe the key that had fallen out of a pocket at some point. 'Very little. There's a supposed nightclub but they let in under-18s so it's very much a youth club with cheap beer. The Denham Arms has a snooker room.'

'Let's do it!'

By nine, they were considerably drunker and Babington had won three games to Sidney's two and Crowe's complete lack of interest except to mock the players.

It was around that time that Charlotte bloody Heywood arrived with James Stringer, his own brother Arthur and another young woman, clearly expecting to find the table free.

'Never mind,' James said, quite amenably. 'We'll wait until they're done. I'll get the drinks in.'

Sidney had no intention of giving up the one source of diversion in town without a fight. He beat Babington thanks to a fluked pink and then turned to them.

'One of you can play me for the table.'

'That isn't how it works,' Charlotte batted back. 'You really do have ownership issues, Mr Parker. You should see someone about that.'

'If you think you _can't _beat me-'

'I"m sure I can't,' she replied. 'I'm terrible at snooker. But James will kick your arse.'

'I'll do what?' James arrived back with a tray laden with pints of beer and what was either a lime soda or a large vodka-tonic. 

'Sidney _Parker_ here won't let us play unless one of us beats him first.'

'All right,' James replied, still infuriatingly amiable as far as Sidney was concerned. 'I'll have a go, I suppose.'

He watched James examine the cue like it had recently arrived on a meteor from Mars. 'Your break, is it?'

'OK.'

Charlotte and her friends settled down to watch from the sidelines. She was wedged into a seat next to Crowe, who made a brief attempt to communicate before giving up on the effort of it.

Sidney played well for a few shots, then found himself snookered. The table was then James' and he learnt that James was actually quite good.

He watched Stringer clear the table with Ronnie O'Sullivan levels of ease. _Very _good. The black sank into a pocket and Charlotte whooped.

'Our table then, Mr Parker.' Her smirk made his teeth itch.

'Indeed.'

'Did I forget to mention James almost went professional?'

'I thought I was the one with the head injury.'

'Does it hurt badly?' she asked, entire attitude shifting instantly to one of genuine concern. 

'Looks worse than it is. I suppose I should thank you for helping me.'

'You're not required to.' the edge was back in her voice and posture. 

'I do thank you. It might have been much worse without you there to help.'

'You're welcome.' She said this in the sing-song melody of the song from _Moana_, which made him laugh. To his surprise, the laugh was a real one, without sarcasm or side. 

One of her friends called to her: 'Charlie, come and bloody play, will you?'

She grinned at Sidney then bounced away, shucking off her jacket as she did. She was wearing another t-shirt: Jim Morrison this time. He couldn't imagine a girl like her knew much about the Doors but remembered just in time to keep the snark to himself.

He watched them play with more humour than skill. Charlotte really wasn't a good player, but it seemed to be more down to the cue than her own ability - too long for someone so short. He itched to correct and coach her, but his nose was already sore enough.

Arthur came to sit with him for a while and they spent a pleasant few minutes catching up. Arthur was struggling with being what he insisted on labelling being '_the only gay in the village_' and wanted to come up to London for a while.

'It's your house too,' Sidney reminded him. 'What will you do while you're in town?'

'Oh, get a job I suppose. If anyone wants a totally unqualified young posh git.'

'You're not totally unqualified. You have a degree.'

'I have a degree in _American Studies and English Literature_, Siddo. I might as well have spent three years in a hermitage for all the use it is.'

'You have transferable skills, idiot.'

'That's a contradiction in terms, surely?'

'Send me your CV and I'll polish it up for you.'

'You will?'

'Of course!'

'Aren't you dreadfully busy?'

Sidney blinked. 'Yes, but I'm never too busy for you.'

'Oh. Oh, well. I mean, yeah. All right.'

Did Arthur not believe him? Then it hit him: Arthur had no reason to believe him. He'd not seen his older brother for six months and how much contact had they had in the interim?

'I'm sorry if I've been distant lately,' he said, grasping Arthur's shoulder a moment. 'Really, I am.'

'It's all right,' Arthur said in that light way that meant it wasn't all right at all. 'You have your own life up in London.'

'Come up with me and find one of your own. Get out of this dump.'

'I like Sanditon!'

'God, why?'

'I like walking along the beach.'

'You walk?'

'Yes, I do! I like that I know everyone, or nearly, and we say hello in the street. I like that everything I could ever need is no further than a few minutes' walk away.'

'That's true in London too.'

'Yeah, but people are bastards in London.'

'They're not really. You'll... you'll have more _scope _there, Arthur. You'll be able to meet more people.'

'The gays, you mean?'

'Exactly.'

'I'll have to do it,' Arthur conceded. 'Maybe after the summer.'

'Come up before that. Summer in London can be great. People are nice to each other. And when it gets too hot, you can go to Starbucks or a movie for the air conditioning.'

Nearby, Charlotte whooped loudly (again) as James beat the other woman. 'Well done, James!'

'Is that really James _Stringer_?'

'Yep. Quite the transformation from your schooldays, eh?'

'Yeah.'

'He's a big-shot architect now, you know. Got a commission for a bridge in Spain and he still lives and works here.'

'Are those two-'

'I don't think so. Maybe? I don't think so. Charlotte's super-focused on her job. I'm amazed we got her to come out tonight. I think you'd like her, you know. Lot like you.'

'What?'

'She takes a while to warm up to people but she's the sweetest, really. She does a lot for Tom and Mary with the niblets. More than I do, but I'm a duffer, so-'

Sidney's temper flared, not exactly _at _Arthur. 'You're not a duffer, Arthur. You're not at school anymore and those little fuckers can't hurt you anymore. I could murder the lot of them.'

'It's OK.'

'It's not OK!' Sidney said, rather louder than he meant to, gaining the attention of everyone else in the room. He sighed and lowered the volume. 'Come to London with me. You need to get away from here.'

'All right.'

'Parker!' 

Both Arthur and Sidney looked up. James was waving at them. 'Either one of you, come play.'

'You go,' Arthur told him. 'I'm happy cheering you on.'

'You're a good human, Artie.'

'Don't call me that! I'm not six anymore.'

Sidney ruffled his brother's hair, earning a glare that bore no heat. 'I know, Artie.'

James and Sidney played again, but the latter was ready this time. It descended into a slow safety game of the kind even Steve Davis would baulk at, until finally, James conceded about two minutes before the Last Orders bell.

'Well played, Parker.' They shook hands. 'Not sure if you remember me from school-'

'I do. When did you come back to Sanditon?'

'Oh, I've been quietly back for a few years. I was looking after my dad. You remember him?'

'I do. Terrifying man.'

James laughed a little. 'He was, yes.'

'I'm sorry, I didn't-'

'S'all right. Are you back for long?'

'God, no. Just until tomorrow.'

'I'm working with Tom on a new idea for the old pavilion-'

'Get everything in writing,' Sidney told him, feeling instantly disloyal. 'I mean it. Tom's a brilliant ideas man but he's no head for the practicalities. I'll do my best to help.'

They fell into a light conversation about the old pavilion then, which left Sidney feeling a little better about Tom's latest wheeze than he had at first hearing of it.

At some point, the landlord had started to give them all a nudge out of the door and somehow they all ended up drunkenly heading onto the beach to continue the merriment.

'What, are we fifteen?' Crowe asked, nevertheless sinking down onto the sand with a freshly procured bottle of something to continue his own conversation with the other woman, whose name Sidney still hadn't caught.

It was a cold night and he pulled his jacket closer to his body. The sand was soft, a little damp and more comfortable than he remembered from the last time he'd done this-

Oh.

His mind whited out a moment as unwelcome, half-forgotten memories and feelings swarmed to the forefront from the mental strongboxes he'd kept them locked up in.

James and Arthur were leading the conversation - Marvel movies, he thought - so he sat half-listening, half-remembering another night just like this. It had been during that quiet pre-season period them, too.

'Are you all right?'

The voice was soft, quiet and came from close by. Charlotte Heywood was looking at him most peculiarly.

'Yes,' he snapped.

'Sorry. You just looked... I thought maybe your nose was painful or something.'

'It's fine.'

'OK. Sorry I asked.' She shivered and turned away to talk to Crowe and the woman instead. 

'Where's your own jacket?' he blurted, noting the goosebumps on her bare arms.

'Oh, I left it inside. I'll pick it up tomorrow.'

'You're cold.'

'Yes, but I'm going home in a minute.'

'You can have mine if you want. Jacket, I mean.'

Her right eyebrow rose so high it seemed to detach itself from her face entirely. 'Sidney Parker offering me one of his possessions? I never thought I'd see the day.'

'You say that like you know me so well.'

'You think I don't?'

'You can't possibly.'

'Course I can. Do you think I've never known rich, entitled dickheads like you before? Everywhere you go, rich entitled dickheads can be found. If not you, it's the arsehole at work who tries to take credit for everyone else's ideas. If not him, it's the derailing dude in my old English Lit lecture who actually thinks other rich old white dudes are the only people whose work we should read. If not him-'

'I get the idea. What do you even know, with all your extensive life experience? It must be so nice to be twenty and convinced of your own impeccable opinions.'

'I'm not twenty and I"m not convinced of anything much, except that you're an almost total wanker,' she hissed, before scrambling up to her feet. 'Night everyone!'

She ignored the half-hearted attempts to get her to stay and almost ran back to town. Sidney grabbed the bottle off Crowe and decided that if he was going to live through flashbacks, he didn't want to remember them in the morning.

*


	6. Root-de-doo-dee-die-do

The sun was streaming through open curtains when Sidney awoke on Sunday morning. He was still fully dressed from the night before, and a layer of the beach had returned with him, grains of sand grinding into his face and hands. It itched terribly but, at the moment he tried to move, his brain sloshed in his head, and he let out a terrible moan that ripped at his sore, dry vocal cords.

His phone and vape pen were mercifully intact on the nightstand; he'd managed to get a single shoe off at some point, but could not see it anywhere in the room.

His mouth tasted like an old sock left out in the rain that had since totally dried to the point that not a single molecule of moisture remained.

Sidney pulled himself up on the only abdominal muscle able to move and rolled over almost onto the floor.

His phone started to ring, loud and obnoxiously shrill. 

'It's too fucking early!' he yelled at the inanimate object, which did not respond to his scolding. He let it ring, the noise at least better than talking to someone.

Sidney struggled into the bathroom and found mouthwash. For a moment he thought drinking it might be the best option, but with each passing second, he felt marginally less rancid. After seeing to his oral health and taking a painfully noisy shower, he was at least willing to be human again.

He dressed and then finally checked his phone. Six missed calls from Tom, one from Mary and the realisation it was not early morning but one o'clock in the afternoon.

**Babbers:** You're an idiot. Be glad I'm happy to wait around in this sad little town.  
**Crowe:** That's the Parker I remember. LEGEND.  
**Tom (Parker):** ARE YOU ALIVE?   
**Tom (Parker):** TELl me IF YouRE ALIVE  
**Artie P:** I have your shoe.  
**Stringer:** I have your wallet.   
**Arthur:** Meet you at the cafe when you're conscious. Covering for Mary.  
**The Lovely Mary:** Lunch is at 2 pm if you're coming. Roast beef. Bring your friends, love.

The prospect of a roast dinner was the first good news he'd had for at least ninety years.

He messaged Babington and Crowe about lunch, then sent Stringer - when did he acquire that number? - a message about his wallet as he made his way out of the hotel.

**Stringer:** Am at Coffee Cabin. See you there.

The wind was high and cold and somehow more soothing than chilling on the walk to the Coffee Cabin. There, he found Stringer sat at his own usual table, drinking tea with Arthur and the other girl from the night before. He was sure he was meant to know her name, but couldn't recall.

'Hello.' It was a simple gesture for the whole gathering but still felt a little more than he could reasonably manage at the moment.

Arthur got up to his feet and slapped his older brother on the back, which was not helpful. 'I'll make you some fresh coffee, Sid.'

Stringer had the wallet ready for him. 'Safe and sound.'

'Thanks.' Sidney looked at it, awkwardly wondering how to proceed from here.

'You don't remember?'

'Nothing after the bottle of whiskey.'

'You threatened to strip down and skinny dip at the stroke of midnight,' said the girl-with-a-name-but-not-one-he-recalled, 'James and your posh friend had to hold you down.'

'You dropped your wallet then, I reckon,' Stringer said. 'I found it as we were leaving.'

'I appreciate that.'

'It's nothing.'

Arthur returned with a large black coffee for him. Sidney sipped and felt instantly improved - a little. 'Are you all right, Sidney?'

'Of course.'

Arthur didn't seem convinced but kindly said nothing more on the subject in front of people who were not family.

'Well,' Stringer said. 'I'm going to walk with Clara to the train station so... if you're ready?'

She - ah yes, Clara! - retrieved her coat and bag. 'Yep. Nice to meet you, Sidney.'

Her smirk suggested he'd acted like a total idiot the night before, but he was still too hungover to much care.

'Are you coming home for lunch?' Arthur asked. 'I'm going to close early given how quiet it is.'

'For Mary's roast beef you'd close even if there was a queue out of the door.'

Arthur grinned guilelessly. 'True. Are you all right, Sid?'

'Don't call me Sid, _Artie_.'

'I haven't seen you get drunk like that since-'

'I'm fine. Just overworked and _here_.'

'Well, if you...' Arthur hesitated under what Sidney believed to be a fierce glare but which may have just been pathetic. 'All right, Sidney. Let's go home.'

*

Sidney hadn't considered Trafalgar House to be his own home since their parents died and Tom partitioned the top two floors into flats. Still, there was a comfort in being greeted by the love of his nieces, nephew and sister-in-law. His friends had arrived just before and were getting comfy in the conservatory.

Instead of joining them, he followed Mary into the kitchen where the smell of roasting beef was warm and thick in the air. Used pots and pans waited to be washed up while bowls of freshly cooked vegetables waited to be served.

'Where's Tom?' he asked, noting the absence of their supposed patriarch. Without being asked, he started to collect the cutlery needed for table-setting. 

Mary sighed. 'He's going over the plans for the old pavilion again.'

'Stringer seems to think it's promising.'

'It is. If he can get the funding. Which he can't at the moment. If only the beer festival had been better attended...'

'But it wasn't. He spreads himself too thin, and for what?'

'He cares,' she said. 'He's trying to make Sanditon better for _everyone_. More visitors will be good for everyone.'

'And yet nobody else is sinking thousands of their own pounds into this.'

Mary held up a hand to silence him. 'Not when there are guests, Sidney. I'll either start to throw things or cry, and I don't want to do either in front of strangers.'

The back door swung open, letting in a draft and Charlotte Heywood.

'You again,' he said without thinking.

Her gaze narrowed a moment before she clearly chose to ignore him. 'So sorry I'm late, Mary. Got caught on a call with my mother and you know how she can sometimes be.'

'You're not late, lovely. Sidney and Arthur just arrived.'

Charlotte essentially ignored him. 'Shall I set the table, Mary?'

'You can help Sidney.'

She did not look like this was what she wanted to be doing, but she nodded and shrugged her coat off before hanging it on the back of the kitchen door. It was the work of a few moments for her to have a stack of plates in her arms.

In the quiet dining room, she started to set the plates out.

'You've certainly made yourself at home here,' he said, unable to help himself.

'I lived here for the first couple of months,' she told him, voice tight, expression closed. Another plate down, she moved on, letting him follow on with cutlery. 'Mary and Tom have been so kind.'

'They do like their waifs and strays.'

'I'm neither waif nor stray. Just someone who appreciated the help. I... never mind.'

'What were you going to say?'

'I was going to start explaining, and then I remembered that I don't have to justify a fucking_ thing_ to you.'

'Language, Miss Heywood! There are little ones around.'

'Using children as your human shield. Nice. I could ask you why you _haven't _been back, why you didn't bother coming for Christmas... but I'm not a judgemental arsehole like you, so I won't.'

'I don't give a toss about your life,' he shot back. 'I just care about my brother and sister being taken advantage of by someone totally unknown until very recently.'

'You _suck_.'

'Only by request.'

She let out a disgusted huff and, the last plate done, walked out of the room. Sidney felt enervated by the snarking exchange for a full ten seconds, then he felt only ashamed.

Mary had learnt the art of Sunday lunch from her mother, who had been the landlady of a village pub and consequently the food was rich, hearty and plentiful. Piles of roast and buttered boiled potatoes vied for attention with heaps of garlic broccoli and green beans, fried pancetta and brussels sprouts, sweet potato mash and roasted onions and peppers... and a magnificent roasted beef joint that Mary begged Sidney to carve, lest Tom make a literal hash of it.

'So, Charlotte,' Babington started, just as they were tucking into this grandly simple fare. 'Where are you from originally?'

'A little village called Willingden. It's in East Sussex. Nobody's really heard of it.'

'And your family? Still there?'

'My parents, yes. My brother moved to Sydney and my sister Alison is in Edinburgh now.'

'So Sanditon is relatively close, eh?' Babington's jocularity brought a smile from her. 'What brought you here?'

'Ah!' Tom interrupted. 'That's a funny story! Mary and I were coming back from a night at the theatre in London and got lost.'

'He wouldn't ask for directions, and the satnav wasn't working,' Mary clarified, spearing a green bean with her fork.

'And anyway, I ended up crashing the car into this chap's front wall. He was terribly nice about it, really, given it was almost 2 in the morning by then, and I woke them all up. He offered to put us up for the night before calling the AA the next morning. And we got talking over breakfast about how Charlotte had graduated a few years earlier and was still looking for somewhere to live that wasn't a hovel or shared with nine other people.'

'My father was quite eager to be rid of me!' Charlotte joked although the smile did not reach her eyes. 'And Tom kindly said that he had a flat for rent here in Sanditon, that it was being renovated and I was very welcome to travel down with them and stay here until it was finished.'

'Extraordinary,' Crowe said. 'Who offers total strangers houseroom? Who accepts it? In this day and age?'

'It was obvious that Tom and Mary were good people and... I just wanted to get away.'

Sidney felt strongly that there was more to the story, but he'd already made things bad enough, so kept his mouth shut except to admit more food into it.

'I work remotely,' she said. 'For the most part. I had some bad experiences with shared housing so...'

'There's more food if anyone wants?' Mary told them, shifting the empty serving dishes from the cluttered table to the sideboard.

The conversation shifted then, but like a flea in the ear, Sidney couldn't shake a feeling that he'd missed something quite important.

*

Sidney and his friends returned to London on Sunday afternoon, citing a need to avoid Monday morning commuter traffic in London. He bid his family fond farewells as always - Henry cried, Jenny sulked, Alicia clung to him - and was more than happy to see Sanditon fade away in his rear-view mirror.

Monday was normal, and Tuesday was typical. Wednesday was ordinary, and Thursday was too busy to even breathe. It wasn't until Friday night when Sidney was sat in another overpriced London bar that he acknowledged that something was very wrong.

He wanted to be back in Sanditon, and he wasn't sure why.


	7. The Glass-covered Atrium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A thaw in the Charlotte Heywood-Sidney Parker relationship. 
> 
> CN: mentions of suicide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the awesome comments so far!
> 
> Please be aware that this chapter contains references to suicide. No details are given and it's brief but it is there.
> 
> If you want to avoid it, stop reading at "They sat for some time in quiet contemplation, neither inclined to speak." and resume at "Everyone knows I'm an arsehole".

Sidney Parker and his friends did not return to Sanditon and Charlotte was glad for it. Her routine fell back into place once they were gone: work, Parker family hang-outs, pub quiz, Spin class, work.

The routine of her life would have been a grind once upon a time. Now, she was glad for a consistent structure. Monday to Friday each week, she woke at 6.30 am to be at the leisure centre at 7 am for Spin class and back home to start work at 8:30 am. She worked solidly until lunchtime when she usually walked over to the Coffee Cabin to eat the day's special. Then, she worked there in the window seat until school ended for the day and the coffee shop filled with parents and noisy children. She usually wrapped up work by 6 pm but sometimes worked until the _Coronation Street _theme tune filtered through the party wall from next door. There was always something more to do - the organisation really needed to employ another editor.

Now the weather was good and the days were long, she went running along the coast with James Stringer on Tuesday evenings, played crazy golf with Arthur on Wednesdays and continued QuizTeam Aguilera's unbeaten run at the Denham Arms on Friday nights.

All was well.

Tom's plans for Sanditon moved along apace, supported by Lady Annabel Denham up at the big house. 

On one particular June morning, Charlotte found herself at the Coffee Cabin doing (free) admin for Tom while he provided a general update.

'I submitted the Lottery Fund application last week,' Tom told Charlotte as if she had not been the one to help him complete it. 'Just a case of wait and see now, but Lady D has promised twenty grand towards the scheme.'

'In exchange for?'

'Nothing, Charlotte! I mean, yes, it'll be called the Denham Pavilion but that hardly means a thing.'

'And?' 

'You are cynical sometimes, Charlotte! She's asked me to include an advertisement for the health club in the newsletter and-'

'And?'

'Well, it's a small thing. Just that she has veto power over events held at the Pavilion for the first two years.'

'Really? That twenty thousand doesn't sound like quite the amazing deal. You just handed her de facto control over the business. And of course, she'll be able to stop any competitors-'

'Lady Annabel doesn't have any competitors!'

'And she won't have for the next two years from the sound of it. You could've - should've - got twice as much for that. I think, anyway.'

'Well, perhaps, but twenty thousand is very good. And the health club is opening next week, and we'll have a large display about the pavilion project in the lobby. Think of it - all that free publicity!'

Charlotte let Tom continue talking without interruption while she cast a glance over the accounts on Excel.

'You're coming, of course.'

She blinked and looked up. 'Pardon?'

'To the health club opening. Lady A said I ought to invite all the best people and so naturally you're on my list.'

'Oh, I don't know-'

'You'll love it. There's going to be a proper formal 'do in the evening after all sorts of things during the day. There's a spin studio - I know that's your kind of thing.'

'I am _ never _ going to be able to afford membership at a place like that, so I'm not sure I'll fit-'

'Nonsense! I'll have a word with Lady A about getting you signed up.'

'I saw the prices quoted online,' she pushed back, still trying to keep half an eye on Excel. 'It's meant to be exclusive. I'm a farmer's daughter and the idea of spending £200 a month on anything that isn't rent doesn't compute. But thank you.'

'Well, I won't push, but you must come to the opening events. I insist. You're a key part of Team Sanditon, after all!'

'I'm basically your assistant.'

'Key part,' he insisted. 

The door to the Cabin swung open and admitted several customers. Tom bounced up to the counter to serve them and left Charlotte to her own thoughts.

*

Lady Annabel Denham was a toff of the old school. She had been one of the last young debutantes to curtsey to Queen Charlotte's birthday cake and even as she neared eighty years old, Lady D was no less indomitable than she had been twenty or thirty or forty years before.

Not even the carving up of her ancient home for commercial purposes could dent her firm belief in her own personal and familial superiority. If she was obliged to hold back a few tears as chunks of lawn were torn up to instal a car park for the new health club, that was nobody's business.

_ Sanditon Hall Health Club _was some years in the making. Her niece Esther had been proposing it for as long as either could remember and now it was a reality. The signage gleamed; the indoor swimming pool sparkled and the outdoor pool gleamed. Squash and tennis courts waited for the squeak of trainers against floor and ball against racket strings. The hotel rooms were _perfect, _the bars stocked with spirits, mixers, posh beer and fine wines.

She had personally assisted in the recruitment of local staff - only the best for her house - and watched with no small amount of pride as their crisp white shirts reflected the sun as they posed for publicity photographs. 

Esther was the crispest of the lot: bright red hair in a perfect chignon, immaculate make-up and well-tailored skirt suit. Perfectly, expensively professional. 'Aunt Annabel, we'd like you in the next few photos.'

'Me? What do you want me for?' she asked, already walking to sit in the centre of the group.

'None of this would exist without you, and you know it.'

They posed for a few photographs for the publicity chap and several more for the local newspaper chap.

'All ready for the grand opening on Saturday, Lady Annabel?' asked the latter fellow.

'It's going to be a fantastic day,' Esther answered for her. 'Sanditon Hall is the latest thing in luxury health and wellness.'

'And for those who can't afford it?'

'So lovely to see you here,' Esther replied. 'You'll be here on Saturday? We'll make sure you get to sample a few treatments, of course.'

A good journalist would have seen this not-very-subtle deflection for what it was, but in this case, he was quite easily paid off with the promise of some pampering and scurried away to his next assignment without trouble.

'Is your brother bringing his society chums down?' Lady Annabel asked Esther.

Esther sighed. 'Step-brother and he says so, but I'm not relying on him. I've got a few friends promised and two of them are successful influencers so-'

Lady Annabel scowled at the word influencer. 'And who exactly do they influence? Young fools with no money to spend here?'

'Some,' Esther admitted. 'But also plenty of bored rich people places like this rely on.'

'I hope so. I do not want to have defaced my house for nothing.'

'It won't be nothing, Aunt. I promise.'

*

The health club opened on Saturday morning with great fanfare. There were balloons and the local MP cut a ribbon with great ceremony. Wait staff with trays of sparkling wine and hors d'oeuvres circulated as prospective members mingled and networked and the car park filled up with Mercedes, Audis and BMWs in black or silver. A bright yellow Lamborghini announced the arrival of a local Premier League footballer and his girlfriend in a growl of horsepower and scattering of gravel.

Sidney Parker's Aston Martin slid into a parking space that afternoon and spewed out the owner and his two friends. 

Babington looked over his sunglasses at the house. 'Very nice.'

'Right,' said Crowe. 'Let me be clear: under no circumstances am I going to _play _anything.'

'Not even a quick game of squash?' Babington asked as a porter came out with a trolley to take their bags. 'What are you here for?'

'Eat, drink, have someone massage me into oblivion.'

'I've got £100 says I'll kick your arse on the court.'

'I'll pay £200 to not even bother.' Crowe handed the porter a crisp orange £10.

They diverged after check-in, each heading to his respective room to settle in and then find such entertainments as they might want. Crowe took up a place on the terrace, suitably close to the bar; Babington took to the tennis courts where his whites might catch the eye of Esther Denham; Sidney meandered around, not at all sure what he wanted to do.

Two months had passed since he last visited. What he really wanted to do was see his nieces and nephew but they were down in Eastbourne visiting Mary's mother and so there was no reason for him to go into town.

It had been a hard couple of months and all he really wanted to do was sleep-

Tom's voice cut in, demanding attention. 'Sidney!' 

Sidney turned to find his brother waving to him from the entrance to the spa. 

'Hello, Tom. You look well.'

'I am, I am! Have you met Esther Denham? She's the brains behind this whole venture.'

They exchanged cool, disinterested introductions, during which Sidney took a chance to appraise the woman his friend had been so charmed by. She was very beautiful but cold and flint-eyed, quite the opposite of Babington.

'You've done a fine job with the place,' he said, almost meaning it. 'This is very nice.'

He was referring to the glass and steel roof over the courtyard. It was beautifully done: carefully considered and in good keeping with the 200-year-old house. 

'Local architect created it. Isn't it marvellous? I love how it makes light dance across the plants. It's rather like having a greenhouse inside the house.' This was the first real emotion he saw from Esther - she was perhaps not such a poor match for his friend after all.

'James Stringer, Sidney!' Tom supplied. 'So glad to have him back. London can keep the likes of Foster and Rodgers, we'll have our Stringer! Did you know he's working on the pavilion, and-'

Sidney stopped listening to Tom and instead stared up at the atrium roof. It was quite a construction, reminiscent of the British Museum courtyard and yet deliberately less uniform. Esther was right - the way light reflected and refracted was charming.

'Are you going to join us, Mr Parker?' Esther asked. 'You look like the sort of man who needs a place to escape to.'

'I'm not really down here often enough-'

'This will be a good excuse to come home more often!' Tom said. 'The children miss you!'

As much as he loved his niblings, Sidney was getting a little tired of them being used as a weapon against him.

'Well,' Esther said smoothly. 'Head down to the spa and have a treatment or two, then we'll talk.'

It was a good enough excuse to get away from the conversation, so he shrugged and headed down the stairs into the spa.

The spa was decorated in a Persian empire style, once again reminding him of the British Museum. The indoor pool was the centrepiece from which sauna, steam room, hydro pool and treatment rooms radiated. The atrium roof glittered light onto the pool and the loungers around it. Several guests were already sprawled there, reading books or newspapers, or chatting amiably to each other.

Sidney ended up on his belly receiving a hot stone massage that just proved how bloody tense he was. 

'You keep all your stress in your shoulders, Mr Parker,' the masseuse told him. 'You're very tight.'

'Well, I have a lot of stress.'

'Banker?'

'It's that obvious?'

'Educated guess. Try and chill out while you're here, eh?'

'Roger, wilco.'

After the massage, he wandered - through the building, around the terrace and finally down to the lake. He'd spent a lot of time fishing and swimming in this very lake as a young lad and found himself surprised by the warmth of affection that surged in his chest as he approached-

Oh for _fuck's_ sake.

'You,' he said, upon seeing a figure ahead. 

Charlotte Heywood was curled up on a blanket by the water's edge, reading a book. Something dense, by the looks of it. She glanced up and upon registering the identity of the interrupter, dropped her book.

'Sidney Parker. Hello.'

'What brings you here?' he asked. 

She quirked an eyebrow. 'Same as you, I expect. Opening day.'

'No, I meant down here, by the lake.'

'Oh. I wanted some peace and quiet.'

'You don't get enough of that living in Sanditon?' It was a poor joke and she did not laugh. 'What are you reading? Something deep and meaningful like War & Peace or Ulysses, perhaps?'

'Lord of the Rings, actually.'

'Ah.'

'Have you ever read it?'

'Not since I was young, no. Mind you, I haven't read War & Peace or Ulysses at _ all _, so...'

'It is a truth universally acknowledged,' said Charlotte 'that 90% of people who claim to have read Ulysses gave up less than halfway through.'

'I suppose you've read it all?'

She shook her head. 'I've only got one life to live - as far as I know - and I couldn't bear to waste my time like that.'

It struck Sidney then that she had a very pleasing smile when something amused her. It was an unexpected thought that pinged into his head from nowhere and he shook his head to send it away.

'Are you all right?' she asked, now concerned.'

'Oh, yeah. Just... tired.'

'What brings you here? To the lakeside, I mean. I presume you're not here to read Lord of the Rings.'

'No. Just... peace and quiet, like you. I'm sorry I disturbed you.'

'It's all right. You can sit if you like.'

'Why are you being nice to me?' he blurted and immediately wanted to kick himself in the face. 

She blinked once or twice. 'Life's too short for being unkind.'

'Oh, it's long enough to fit in some primo unpleasantness, I reckon.' Nevertheless, he took a corner of the blanket to sit down upon. 'Do you think that? That life is short, I mean.'

'I know it is. It's never as long as you think.'

'I agree.' He paused and considered that she'd referred to life being short twice in quick succession. There were all kinds of reasons for that but... 'Did you lose someone, Miss Heywood?'

'Two someones.' She stared out at the lake. 

'Oh. I'm very sorry.' He meant it, too. 'I was twenty-two when my parents died. Arthur was only fifteen. And... anyway, I do agree.'

'Tom told me about them. I'm sorry for your loss, too. It's the suddenness that makes it so painful, I think.'

'Yes.'

They sat for some time in quiet contemplation, neither inclined to speak. 

'My best friend killed herself,' she said. 'I still don't know why.'

Sidney's heart_ clenched: i_t was the matter-of-fact way in which she said it, the quiet resignation of deep grief that chimed with his own broken heart. 'I'm sorry.'

'It's OK.'

'You said two- never mind.'

'Oh, yes. Well, Lucy killed herself. Five years ago next week. And then her brother killed himself. Did you know suicide can be contagious? He was- I mean-'

'You don't have to tell me.'

'I had a crush on him _forever_,' she said. 'I never told anyone. Not even Lucy. She'd have teased me forever. And I wasn't even at home when it all happened. I was off at university being a self-absorbed idiot. A typical _ student _.'

'Ah.' Sidney's heart clenched again. No wonder she didn't like having that label thrown at her._ He_ was the self-absorbed idiot here and didn't even have the excuse of extreme youth on his side.

'Did you know that farming communities have a high incidence of suicide?' she said, now sounding like a leaflet would read. 'High stress levels, lack of opportunities for young people...'

'That's why Tom and Mary brought you here,' he guessed, receiving a nod in return. 'I'm- forgive me. I've been incredibly rude to you.'

'Yes, you have.'

'Pay me no mind. Everyone knows I'm an arsehole.'

'Are you? Jenny, Alicia and Henry would disagree. They worship you.'

'They're the exception that proves the rule.'

'Ah, I see. Well, I don't need you to be nice to me, but I'd appreciate you being less actively hostile. It's just... wearying.'

'I'll do my best to redirect my arseholery to more deserving recipients.'

'I appreciate that.'

They remained there for some time. Charlotte resumed reading and Sidney lay back to stare up at the clouds. All around the sounds of nature kept the silence from becoming oppressive: the lapping of water, the call of birds and the occasional light aircraft from the nearby aerodrome.

Eventually, life interrupted. Charlotte's phone chimed with a message and when she read it, she got to her feet, tucked her book under her arm and moved to go.

'Would you return the blanket when you leave?' she asked. 'I'm off home.'

'Of course.' A thought occurred to him. 'Are you coming to the party here this evening?'

'Probably. You?'

'I'll never turn down a free drink or three. See you later, then.'

She nodded, staring out across the water again. 'See you later.'

*


	8. Bangers and Mash

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the comments so far - you folks really are awesomesauce. It may be a small fandom, but you're fabulous in that regard and I really do appreciate you taking the time.

Charlotte readied herself for the Sanditon Hall party with a little more care than usual, hoping not to feel or look like a poor relation amidst all the effortlessly elegant, wealthy people. Her royal blue dress was simple, but she liked it, and she did her best to wrangle her usually-wild hair into something a little more elegant.

She looked at herself in the mirror briefly on the way out of the flat - it would do - and headed over to Trafalgar House to get a lift with Tom and Mary.

'You look so lovely, Mary!' she exclaimed upon seeing her friend, who did indeed look as lovely as a handsome woman with plenty of money is wont to appear.

Mary waved her off. 'Not as much as you, dear. You'll charm everyone.'

'I don't want to charm anyone. Just... not look like an idiot.'

'You don't look like an idiot, I promise you that.'

After hugs and kisses for the children and promises from the babysitter that bedtime was _eight o'clock, no exceptions_, Tom, Mary and Charlotte bundled into the Parkers' Mercedes-Benz and took the short journey along to Sanditon Hall.

*

Fairy lights in the trees along the Sanditon Hall driveway beckoned them towards the house, which fair glowed with golden light. Guests networked, chatted and schmoozed - in some cases, they also flirted, socially lubricated by free drink and the romance of an early summer evening.

Tom and Mary led the way in, greeted by Esther Denham in a red dress fit to stop traffic. Sidney Parker's friend Babington leaned against a pillar nearby, a glass of wine loosely dangled from his fingers. Crowe, the other friend, had taken up a place at the bar and seemed determined to stay there, staring into his highball glass.

Charlotte knew nobody at the party, and once Tom and Mary had been pulled away by someone, all she could do was mill around awkwardly, pretending that she wasn't totally alone and out of place. At least the DJ-provided music was loud enough to create a blanket of sound around them all, even if the tracks were mostly 20 years old.

'Hey, Charlotte!'

She turned - there stood James Stringer in a blue three-piece suit - and grinned. 'Hello, James! You scrub up well.'

They made a parody of the air-kiss greeting. James combed his fingers through his hair. 'So do you, but I had no doubt of it. I'm glad to see a familiar face amongst all these... other people.'

'Same! I suppose your work is getting lots of compliments.'

'Oh, yeah, people like it.' He reddened, unaccustomed to such praise. 'They just don't know I'm the one that did it.'

'It's brilliant! The pool downstairs is amazing. Like something out of a dream.'

'Thank you. I'm glad you like it. I really want to- Hey, Parker.'

Sidney Parker had appeared, apparently out of nowhere and now stood a metre or so behind Charlotte.

Where everyone else had spiffed up well, he'd chosen not to shave and had barely even attempted to do his tie correctly. As such, he appeared more errant schoolboy than a grown man. Charlotte's fingers itched to sort his tie for him. 

He nodded a greeting to James. 'Stringer. Good to see you. Wanted to tell you I think your work here is excellent. And of course, Charlotte. Hello.'

He looked her up, down and up again - but at least his gaze returned to her face. 

Charlotte looked up at the atrium roof again: 'It reminds me of the British Museum.'

'I've spent a lot of time there,' said James. 'It's one of my favourite places in the world.'

'I like it very much,' Charlotte replied, a happy memory at the forefront of her mind. 'But I've only been there once, during a school trip. I haven't had much call to visit London, in truth.'

'I live around the corner,' said Sidney, as if _living around the corner from the British Museum _was an entirely regular, everyday occurrence that might be true for anyone. 'And I'm a member. I'll be happy to take you as my plus one to any of the special exhibitions if you want.'

'Oh.' Charlotte was sure she couldn't hide her surprise. Since when did Sidney Parker do anything nice for her? Did he pity her after the story she told earlier? 'I couldn't impose-'

'Accepting a freely given invitation isn't an imposition.' His eyes sparkled. 'Call it payback for me being a dick.'

James snorted. 'You, a dick? Can't be true.'

'Shut up, Stringer, or I'll tell Charlotte all about your school days.'

'I've nothing to be ashamed of. And I'm fairly sure Charlotte already knows my nickname was Shortarse Stringer.'

'I'm sure Charlotte doesn't want to be talked about like she's not here,' she added. 'And yes, I did know that. I suppose _Sidney Parker _was six foot by the age of 12?'

'Not at all,' James spoke before Sidney could. 'He was a scrawny brat like me until Year Nine. He came back in Year Ten looking much as he does now.'

'My growth spurt hit while we were on holiday in Greece.' Sidney admitted. 'My mother said I must've been solar-powered. And it was terrifying.'

'Yeah?' she asked.

'I went from being practically invisible to being _cooed _at by girls. I had no idea what to do with any of them.'

James laughed. 'Well, there was one.'

It was as though someone switched a light off in Sidney's head. His whole demeanour froze for a long moment. Then, he seemed to return to himself a little. 

'Parker, I didn't mean-'

'No apology necessary. Quite right. Now, can I get anyone another drink?' Sidney didn't even wait for them to reply.

'What,' Charlotte turned to James, who looked quite stricken, 'just happened?'

'I'm an idiot.'

'That's usually true, James. What happened _specifically_?'

'You know how most schools have _that _pair? A couple who start going out with each other in Year Nine or Ten and just... keep going? And they're so much more grown-up than everyone one else?'

'It was Ashley O'Neill and India Monroe at my school, yeah. So?'

'Sidney and Eliza were that at our school. They started going out with each other around Christmas in Year Ten, I think... and they were our stars. He was always brighter and more brilliant than the rest of us, and she was absolutely _gorgeous_. All the way through Year Ten, Eleven and even into Sixth Form. And then they even went to Cambridge together. And everyone assumed they'd get married and live happily ever after.'

Charlotte dreaded what he was about to say, for Sidney's sake. 'And?'

'He came back, Christmas of our first year of uni alone. And he didn't say a word, but we knew something had happened. Eliza didn't even come back to Sussex, let alone Sanditon. I don't even know what happened to her exactly. I know she's alive because she follows my cousin on Instagram and... that's it.'

'Oh.'

'You should've seen him when he was young. A charming bastard, like he is now, but without the cynical edge. And if you think he's a spiky arsehole now, he's actually mellowed a bit in the last few years. God, he used to drink so much that the off-licence had to close when he moved back to London permanently.'

'All cynics are broken-hearted idealists.'

'I reckon you're right.' James put a warm arm around her shoulders. 'We're all of us the walking wounded, eh?'

She managed a smile for him. 'We are. Nothing to do but keep on walking.'

'Exactly. Shall I see if Parker actually went to get drinks? What'll it be? Looks like there's a choice of red, white or water.'

'Red wine will be fine. Thank you.' Charlotte watched James walk away and felt the awkwardness of being alone descend upon her once more.

It was then, perhaps smelling blood in the water, that Lady Annabel Denham pounced. Or rather, shuffled with all the energy she had.

'Miss Heywood?' Lady Annabel had an appraising kind of gaze, one that pierced one's armour. 

'Lady Annabel. How nice to meet you again.'

'Are you enjoying yourself?' The only acceptable answer, it was inferred, was "yes, absolutely spiffing, you always throw the best parties, Lady Annabel" but as this felt dishonest, Charlotte did not say this.

'I don't know very many people, but it's a very well-put-together event. I was just saying to James Stringer that you've done an absolutely fantastic job on the health club conversion.'

'It is good, isn't it? What do you think of the new roof? Reminiscent of the British Museum, eh?'

'Yes, it's lovely. Prettier than the Museum's, I would say, but it doesn't have to span half such a distance.'

'T'was my idea, you know.'

Charlotte's lips quirked. She knew it was James' plan initially, but when had the upper classes ever been backward in stealing credit? Credit, other people's land and labour... 'It's fantastic.'

Lady Annabel's gaze narrowed. 'Mr Stringer did an excellent job.'

This was the closest she was likely to get to admitting the truth, so Charlotte just nodded. 'He's a very talented young man.'

'Runs in the family, you know. One of his ancestors built most of New Sanditon. New Sanditon, I mean, not Modern Sanditon.'

'Ah, Tom has explained that to me.'

'Modern Sanditon is a travesty, really. Sad little box houses with no charm or character. Just plonked down without consideration for taste or existing residents. And not the right sort of person at all-'

The political animal inside Charlotte couldn't help herself: 'I understand your father made a lot of money selling that parcel of land to the council.'

Lady Annabel's lips thinned so dramatically that they almost disappeared. 'You know your Sanditon history.'

Charlotte beamed quite sincerely and without guile. 'Oh, I find it all so interesting! My family has been in Willingden since at least the 15th Century, and I got very interested in that sort of local history as a child.'

'The fifteenth century? That's a very long time. How did you come to trace your history so far back?'

'St James, the church, has excellent parish records and the Heywoods were always scrupulous about baptisms, it seems. There's always a degree of uncertainty, I suppose, but it seems almost definite that my father can trace his line back, totally unbroken through eldest sons, that far. Isn't that amazing?' Charlotte stopped herself there, keenly aware that almost no other person was as interested in this as she.

Lady Annabel sipped her wine. 'How nice for you. A gentleman's daughter, as they might have once said.'

Charlotte took this to infer that aristocratic Lady Annabel's family was not _quite _so historic. 'Oh yes, but these days such distinctions don't mean quite so much.'

'Perhaps they should.'

'Perhaps.'

Lady Annabel looked at a point behind Charlotte's head. 'What do you think, Mr Parker?'

Sidney was stood behind Charlotte again, this time carrying two glasses. One, red wine, he handed to Charlotte before turning to the hostess. 'Think, Lady A?'

'Class distinction and the merits thereof?'

'Nothing speaks so loudly as money. Never has, never will.'

'What about military might?' Charlotte asked.

'Has to be paid for. Money is king. Money is freedom.'

'A grim take,' Lady Annabel replied.

'I don't say I like it. Just that it's the way of things.'

'You're an investment banker,' Charlotte challenged. 'You would say that.'

'Or perhaps I'm an investment banker because it's true?' Sidney sipped at his own glass of wine. 'My grandmother was the daughter of a baronet, you know. It meant nothing, except her family had taxes after the war, and she married a wealthy man to retain her social standing. Another ancestor was a duke's granddaughter. She married for love, I'm told, but I cannot imagine she'd have loved him half as much if he'd been poor.'

'You are cynical, Mr Parker,' said Lady Annabel, clearly growing tired of a conversation she could not entirely control. 'Now, I must see to my guests. Did you try the flotation tanks?'

Sidney shook his head. 'Nope.'

'You really must. Most relaxing. Tanks cost a bloody fortune. When do you leave?'

'Tomorrow afternoon.'

'Make sure you try it before you leave. You too, Miss Heywood.'

'Oh, I'm not a member-'

Lady Annabel waved her hand again, sending the diamonds on her fingers glittering like she was Elizabeth Taylor circa 1978. 'I will arrange a membership for you. I like your spirit, Miss Heywood. You're the sort we want here. Bit of spunk to you.'

Sidney bit his lip and Charlotte _knew _he was thinking something terrible. She scowled at him as Lady Annabel swept away like an imperial duchess.

'What did you say to get the old bat on your side?'

'I really don't know.'

'Where did Stringer go?'

'In search of you. I think he was worried he upset you.'

'Ah. I suppose he told you.'

'A summary, that's all.'

He shook his head. 'All ancient history.'

'I'm sorry, though. Sounds horrible.'

'It was. But I'm sure I had a lucky escape. Can you imagine me, married and settled at 22? God, no. Lucky escape indeed.' He drained his glass. 'These days, I have everything anyone could ever want.'

'I'm sure that's true.'

He pointed his empty glass at her with accusation levels between "Columbo" and "Poirot". 'But? I can hear the "but" there, Charlotte.'

'_But... _ you don't strike me as the brightest picture of happiness.'

'Just because I don't walk around grinning from ear to ear like a moron, just because I'm not exuberant like Tom? You're making some pretty big assumptions, there.'

'I don't mean that. I mean that happy people aren't usually arseholes to people they barely know. Happy people don't give a flying toss whether they get the table they want in a coffee shop. They're too busy being, you know, _happy_.'

Sidney stood and just _stared _at her so long that it started to feel unnerving. He seemed to twig this and blinked. 'Sorry. I just... never mind.'

A change of subject was needed. 'So, will you do the flotation thing tomorrow?'

His right eyebrow quirked. 'I will if you will.'

She blinked: that was not what she expected. 'Challenge accepted.'

'Have you done it before?'

'No. You'll be shocked to learn that Willingden is not overrun with bourgeois activities. It's _Willingden_, not Islington. Have you?'

'No. Babs has and raves about it.'

'Do you really live near the British Museum?'

'Yes. I mean, we own it jointly. Tom, Arthur and me. We Parkers have owned it almost since it was built.'

'That's quite something.'

'Yes, it is. And... I did mean it when I said I'd take you there. When you're in London, I mean.'

'Thank you. See?'

'See what?'

'You are capable of being the Sidney that Tom and Mary have been telling me about for so long.'

A member of the wait staff passed by with a tray of miniature bangers and mash, which Sidney grabbed with reflexes barely slower than a hummingbird. 

Spearing some food on the little wooden fork, he took a bite, ate, swallowed and then replied: 'Don't get used to it. I'm just on my best behaviour this evening.'

'Well, best is relative, I suppose.'

'I'm not bad,' he said through a mouthful of mash. 'I'm just drawn that way.'

Stringer returned then, bearing more wine, and he frowned at seeing the still fresh glass in Charlotte's hand. 'Oh. Never mind.'

Sidney took it from him instead. 'Thanks, Stringer.'

'It wasn't- never mind. Have you seen the gardens yet, Charlotte?'

'A little.'

'That sounds like a euphemism,' Sidney quirked an eyebrow at Stringer and he pointed towards the French windows with his wooden fork. 'Would it be easier if I just left you to it?'

'Don't be crass, Parker,' Charlotte took the glass from him before he could drink more. 'See if you can last more than two and a half minutes as a decent human being.'

'His personal best is only 90 seconds.'

Charlotte snorted. 'I thought that was just unkind gossip.'

'If I wanted to stand around listening to bad jokes, I'd have stuck with Crowe. Aren't you two supposed to be _nice_?'

'I'm not nice,' Charlotte replied. 'Whoever told you that?'

'Jenny. Alicia.' Sidney stuck his finger in the bowl to get the last of the mash out and made a show of licking it clean in the most uncouth manner possible. 'And Henry. Tom. Mary. Stringer. Arthur. Everyone in this godforsaken fucking town.'

'I don't like "nice",' she said. 'It's false. Kindness is important, but nice can quite literally go and fuck itself.'

'Charlotte Heywood, such language!' Stringer teased, nudging her shoulder with his own. 'I wouldn't have expected it from you.'

Sidney's gaze narrowed and he seemed to actually tilt his head at her. 'Somehow, I can't say I'm surprised.'

'Have you nothing better to talk about? Game of Thrones, maybe. Or the exchange rate. Or what you're hoping for from the new Star Wars film.'

'I don't care about any of those things.' Sidney ditched his now-empty bowl and snatched the glass of wine back from Charlotte. 

'What _do _you care about, Sidney Parker?' she challenged, wondering where the quite pleasant human had disappeared to and why he was missing in action.

Sidney tipped the contents of the glass directly down his throat. 'As little as I can possibly manage.'

'Spoken like a true City banker.'

'I'm a total banker, I cannot deny. I will leave you to _tour the gardens_. Don't do anything I wouldn't do.'

James scowled, offended by him now. 'You're a dick, Parker.'

'I've never claimed otherwise. Until next time, good night.' He bowed grandly to them, like a Regency dandy, and stalked away.

James and Charlotte said nothing for a moment. 

'What is his problem?' she asked.

James shrugged. 'Whether someone broke his heart or not, he's an arrogant knobhead. Let's not waste any more time on him. I meant it when I asked about the gardens. Did you see the lights?'

'No.'

'Come on then, I want to show you how the colours work with the planting-'

'If it were anyone else, I'd agree with Sidney that it's a cheap euphemism but it's you, so at the risk of sounding more like a Carry On film... show me your plantings.'

*


	9. A Cliché or Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Always glad and grateful for your comments. So glad you're enjoying it. There's a fine line between 'modern AU' and 'totally OOC and not remotely related to what you're meant to be writing about' so I'm glad you're still finding something about your original faves within these guys.

The gardens were as gorgeous as expected from someone as thoughtful and conscientious as James Stringer. It was a cold night though, and they did not linger outside. If a couple of bushes shook suspiciously, discretion was always the better part of valour, and they walked swiftly on until they returned inside and James returned to Lady Annabel's side.

As with any party involving free drink, by ten o'clock, the scene was messy and loud. Vowels were elongated, gestures a little unhinged and moods prone to wild variation.

With little patience for that kind of thing, Charlotte bid her friends goodnight and arranged for a taxi back to town. She was waiting quietly outside when her phone pinged loudly.

_ Your appointment at Sanditon Hall Health Club is confirmed! _

_ 1-hour Flotation Tank isolation - 11:30 tomorrow _

_ Please arrive at least fifteen minutes before your appointment to complete any required forms and ensure your appointment starts on time. _

There was a bit of blather about FAQs and what Charlotte needed and didn't need to do/be/bring, which she read mostly for something to do while waiting for her taxi. Lady Annabel must have taken it upon herself to arrange it all.

'Off already?'

She turned and found Sidney Parker's friend Crowe leaning against a column and smoking a cigarette. He looked drunk - but less than might be expected from someone who seemed always to be drunk.

'Yes. Are you enjoying the party?'

His response was a shrug so inattentive that it made ordinary shrugs seem formal and stilted. 'Free drink.'

'A perfect event for you, then.'

Another shrug. 'Why are you leaving so early?'

'I hit my schmooze threshold. Why are _you _outside?'

He waved his cigarette by way of explanation, but added that 'I got bored watching Babbers falling all over the ginger bird.'

'Bird? Nice. The seventies called - they want their misogyny back.'

'Misogyny never went anywhere, it just rebranded.'

'Strangely, I agree with you.'

'I'm always right, you know.'

'Must be difficult to keep such a first-class intellect under control.'

Crowe startled. 'How'd you know?'

'What?'

'Well, that's what the alcohol's for.'

Before Charlotte could comment upon the surprising nature of Crowe's genius, Sidney Parker stumbled down the steps from the front door. 

'Crowe, we need to fetch that fucking idiot- oh.'

Crowe turned a lazy glance his way. 'What now?'

'He's threatening to prove how much he can bench press.'

'Come on, then. Under no circumstances should we let him press what he _ thinks _ he can.' Crowe pushed himself off the column with a little difficulty and started back up the steps.

Sidney remained a moment, staring down at Charlotte.

'Finished with James for the night?'

'What possible business is it of yours?'

'Absolutely none.'

'Go and help your friend then.'

'Are you waiting for a taxi?'

'I'm waiting for my magic carpet ride.'

'Oh, OK. No, wait-'

'How drunk are you?'

'Not enough. Get home safely, then. You should text Mary when you get home.'

'Worried about me, Parker?'

'Just that you establish any necessary alibis.' He shrugged, not unlike Crowe had, and went back inside without another word.

Her taxi arrived a few moments later and had her back home within minutes. She remembered to text Mary.

*

The next morning was warm and bright, so Charlotte walked from town to Sanditon Hall. She arrived at the health club reception with precisely ten minutes before her flotation tank appointment. As the instructions specified, she had not had any caffeine and so was still very sleepy even as she checked in.

The spa looked almost futuristic: all white and silver, sharp lines and smooth curves. The floor was sparkling black granite, and even the woman at reception seemed more like a robot than human in her precision.

‘Good morning, Miss Heywood. Please complete this form.’ The woman, whose name tag declared her to be “Eloise”, thrust a brand new iPad in a Sanditon Hall Health Club liveried case. 

Charlotte completed the health and wellbeing form in a minute or two and then all she had to do was wait on the black leather sofa with a cup of echinacea and vanilla tea. 

Five minutes before her appointment, part of the wall nearby opened - a door concealed therein, and Sidney Parker emerged. He was shiny as only the very-recently-showered person can be, his short, curling black hair still damp. The look in his eyes shocked Charlotte - it was _bright_ in a way she had never seen from him, even when with the children. He radiated serenity rather than the spiky, quietly angry energy he usually bore around with him like an albatross around the neck. Indeed, he had a small white towel around his neck instead.

He froze a moment at sight of her sat there with her tea. 'Heywood.'

'Parker. Was it good?'

'Yes. I think you'll like it. Very relaxing.'

'I hope so.'

A pause between them then.

'Well,' he said, apparently disliking the silence more than her. 'See you around.'

He flicked the towel from around his neck and tossed it at a nearby towel bin. It landed neatly, but he didn't even look back at it as he strode away.

Another hidden door opened, and a white coat wearing spa attendant poked her head out. 'Miss Heywood?'

'Yep!'

'Come on in.'

'Thank you.'

Charlotte was shown around the flotation pod and instructed on what to do. Soon, she was naked and shut away in the pod. There was no light, her earplugs blocked out any sound, and the saltwater suspended her as if in a womb. Some gentle music played for a few minutes and then when that was done, there was nothing.

And Charlotte Heywood found a kind of soothing oblivion.

*

Over an hour later, Charlotte emerged from the spa. She was freshly showered and felt the most chill she'd been in years. Not wanting to return to the reality of life in Sanditon town just yet, she acquired another cup of tea (jasmine white tea) and meandered out to the terrace.

A few affluent couples sat at tables with a light lunch or newspapers, talking in those low tones considered by some to be more polite than normal volume.

Sidney Parker, by contrast, sat with his long legs stretched and feet propped up on the old stone wall. He had a cup of tea cradled in one hand as he appeared to stare out into space.

She had no intention of disturbing him, but he turned and saw her. 

'Heywood. Feel better?'

'Yes, actually.'

'Told you so.'

'So did Lady Annabel, to be fair.'

'Sit down, you're making the place look untidy.'

With a sigh, she sat opposite him and realised that the low wall was the perfect height for propping one's feet as he had, so she aped the gesture. 

'Are you not hungover?' she asked.

'Feel better now.'

'Did you like the flotation thing?'

'Yep.'

'Feel less like a total dick?'

He rolled his eyes at her. 'I'm fairly sure that's a permanent feature.'

'Do you _like _being such a wanker? It must be tiring to be so awful all the time.'

'It's a living.'

'You aren't like this with your family. Why the rest of us?'

'Easier that way.'

'I don't believe that. Cynicism is exhausting, you know.'

'I do know.'

'So why-'

'Safer that way.'

'You were almost nice to me. You invited me to the British Museum.'

'That's just something people say.'

'No, it isn't.'

'Well, I didn't mean it. Don't come up to town expecting me to show you around.'

'Naturally.'

At this, they both fell quiet, and if either of them felt the silence to be more companionable than unfriendly, neither admitted it.

'Stringer told you about Eliza, I suppose?'

'Yes.'

'He only knows the public version of the story. My girlfriend didn't dump me.'

'No?'

'Nope.'

'You want me to prove you right by asking intrusive questions,' she guessed. 'I won't. You can tell me things, and I'll listen, but I won't ask you to share what you'd rather not.'

'She wasn't my girlfriend,' he said. 'She was my fiancee, and she didn't dump me. She showed up married to someone else after a two week holiday away with her friends.'

'That's... _fucking brutal_.'

'Yeah.'

'I'm sorry that happened to you.'

'Yeah.' His eyelashes flickered rapidly for a moment, and he turned his head to stare blankly across the rolling lawns. 

They sat a while longer in the quiet. 

'Do you want more tea?' she asked. 'The salt is pretty dehydrating.'

'Oh... yeah. thanks.'

Charlotte left him alone only long enough to acquire more herbal tea for them both, but by the time she returned, he was transformed. Sat up and still louche in attitude but more alert. 

A very pretty woman stood by his seat, talking animatedly. She was a woman in the modern Sloane Ranger, _Made in Chelsea _mould: very expensively coiffed blond hair, big perfect white teeth and immaculate make-up and pseudo-equestrian clothing that made her look more middle-aged than she actually _ was _.

Charlotte's first instinct was to roll her eyes and assume Sidney's head had been turned by a pretty, rich face, but as this was of no relevance to her personally, she approached with his tea just the same.

And then, she saw the look of relief that briefly rolled across his eyes.

'Ah, lovely!' he plastered a broad, totally plastic smile on his face. 'Thank you, darling.'

She froze at the label, but he nodded at her, imploring her to go along with it. So, instead of demanding to know what the hell was going on, she slid his fresh teacup across the table.

'Charlotte,' he said. 'This is Poppy. Poppy, this is Charlotte. What labels are we using today, darling?'

She could smack him for flicking that back to her but decided now was as good a time as any for some revenge. 'Well, sweetheart, I thought we'd go for the classic_ betrothed_, but if you prefer _consciously coupled, _I won't object.'

He scowled a little at her for escalating their impromptu fake relationship but played along. 'I just don't like the word "fiancé". Don't know why.'

This last was said to Poppy just before he took a tactical sip of tea. She edged away from him.

'Nice to meet you, Charlotte.' Poppy did not sound happy. 'Sidney, I'm definitely up for a game of squash later if you like.'

'I must check in with the old ball and chain.'

'You're free to do exactly as you wish,_ darling_,' Charlotte shot back. 'I'm not your keeper.'

The triumphant gleam in Poppy's eye annoyed Charlotte more than Sidney did, so she continued: '..but we did agree to try that couples massage this afternoon.'

The mere phrase _couples massage_ made Charlotte want to be sick into her mouth, but she smiled just the same. 'And then, of course, our longstanding Saturday night appointment.'

She said this last part with a twist in tone that left no doubt as to her meaning. Poppy now went red, whether with embarrassment or annoyance Charlotte hardly cared, and excused herself quickly.

Sidney breathed a sigh of relief. 'Thank you.'

'Too cheesy?'

'Just right, I think. She was bothering me last night, and I made up a girlfriend on the spot.'

'She seemed nice enough. Pretty, well-heeled.'

'I'm not interested, and I don't like people who don't take no for an answer.' He sipped his tea again. 'Thank you for playing along.'

'You're welcome, I suppose.'

'I couldn't keep a straight face at "longstanding Saturday night appointment". Good grief.'

'It was my parents' euphemism when my siblings and I were young.'

'Grotesque.'

'Sweet really, when they did it. I was about eight when I worked out what they meant.'

'Imagine, having to make an appointment to shag. How dreary. And once a week? Ugh. Spare me all that middle-class, middle-aged half-life.'

'You're talking about my parents, and they're the sweetest people who ever lived!'

'Sorry.' He did not sound it.

'You're an idiot. It was their _joke_. Whether they had to make appointments or anything else, I don't know... but it was a joke. Have you heard of jokes?'

'Read about them in the _Sunday Times Magazine _once.'

'Aha, there you go! Anyway, nobody's telling you to live any kind of life, but you seem determined to judge other people for how they live theirs.'

He sipped tea and then glanced over, actually catching her eye this time. 'That's what you want, I suppose?'

'God, no. My parents have five children-'

'Five? Was their TV broken?'

'Fuck off.'

'Sorry.' This one sounded more sincere. 'Continue.'

'We're an ancient family, as my dad reminds me, but it doesn't follow we're a wealthy one. He's essentially an estate manager, farmer, businessman and engineer all in one and he doesn't get to rest.'

'He has five children, so there's been some rest.'

'You're such a dick.'

'Sorry, carry on.'

'No, I don't think I will.' She actually moved to go then, but his hand shot out and grabbed at her wrist.

'Please, I'm sorry.'

She sat down. 'He doesn't get much downtime. My mum does _everything else _and doesn't get to rest. We haven't had a family holiday since I was twelve. We're... my family does all right, but it's just hard. Nicky will take over one day, and it'll continue and continue until everyone's dead or the farmlands get bought out by one of the bigger landowners or commercial farms. They work all day and sleep when they can, and that's it. I don't want that kind of life.'

Charlotte looked around at their plush surroundings then. 'Not that I want _this_ either.'

'So, what do you want?' Sidney asked this in all earnestness, attention fixed on her entirely.

'I want to live an interesting life. I don't need to be married and have babies, I don't need a million pounds. I just want to... put into the world than I take out of it. But I don't know in any greater detail than that. I'd like not to be sad.'

'Are you sad?'

'Less with every day Lucy and Daniel are gone. Sometimes, I worry that I'll forget their faces... five years is a long time, but it's also nothing at all.'

'I know what you mean.'

'I'm sorry,' she said, taking a drink of her own tea. 'I don't mean to foist all this on you. I don't even know why I told you before.'

'Because I don't matter.'

'You don't matter?'

'I don't mean anything to you. Impartial stranger syndrome, if you like.'

'You mean something to me.'

'Yeah?'

'Tom's annoying brother,' she replied, and he chuckled. 'And the Parker babies' favourite uncle.'

'Arthur is surely favourite.'

'They love him, but you're obviously their favourite. You're also the cocky arsehole who nearly beat me at a pub quiz. That's not nothing... but I'm sorry to fling all this at you. You don't care, and it's not your problem, so.'

'I don't mind listening, though.'

'What, for blackmail purposes?'

Another chuckle and sardonic grin. 'That's an idea. But no, I just meant... I suppose you don't like burdening Tom and Mary with it?'

'They have enough going on-'

'That's not why,' he interrupted. 'You don't want to disappoint them.'

'How do you-'

'I've spent far longer than you trying to live in the shadow of Tom Parker's perfect life.'

'He's not perfect.'

'No, but between them, they give that impression.'

'Mary's doing a lot of the heavy lifting in that relationship.'

'Oh, at least 95% but Tom is the kind of person you never want to let down. Why the fuck do you think I own half of a coffee shop in a town I detest?'

'I thought you were joking about that.'

'Nope. Hate it.'

'Do you hate Sanditon or your emotional baggage?'

'Don't psychoanalyse me, Heywood.'

'Don't be such a walking Freudian nightmare, then.'

'I'd say more Jungian, myself.'

'Fine.'

More silence, this time definitely companionable.

'You're not quite as annoying as I thought you were,' he conceded.

'You're far more messed up than I originally thought.'

He leaned back in his chair. 'You don't know even half of it.'

'Well... if you ever need an impartial stranger, I'll return the favour. But I won't make you talk. I don't give a toss for gossip.'

'Thank you.'

'Sure you don't want to play squash with Poppy?'

'Squash is fucking terrible. Tennis with Babington later, I think. For now, lunch. I'm hungry after that floating thing.'

'Well,' she moved to leave. 'I'll let you get on.'

'Oh, yeah. See you around, I suppose.'

'Yeah. Have a nice day.'

As she walked away through the Hall, "have a nice day" rolled through her head as possibly the blandest, stupidest thing she could've said.

She walked home just in time to miss a summer rain shower and almost immediately upon sitting down in her armchair, Charlotte fell asleep.

Charlotte dreamt of Lucy, Daniel, all the Parkers and a world underwater where no harm could befall any one of them.

*


	10. Almost Nothing Happens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for continuing to read and leave comments - I really do appreciate it.
> 
> Updates might slow down a bit - I'm pretty busy at work, to the extent yesterday I didn't write a single word of anything.

Charlotte's membership card for Sanditon Hall Health Club arrived at home before she did. Lady Annabel must have arranged for it and subsequently had it hand-delivered. Quite why she would go to such trouble, Charlotte had no idea... but she cancelled her membership at the leisure centre with a certain amount of relief. 

The flotation lady had said she would sleep well that night, and she did. She awoke uncommonly refreshed and fit to seize the day. In such cases, she tended to pack up her latest project and hunker down in the Coffee until the work was done, powered by gingerbread lattes and the occasional muffin.

This she did, taking the latest draft of _Stalking The Wilderness_ by ED Hopper along with her. She didn't understand as much about mid-western American geography as she felt necessary to effectively edit the book, so along came several library books and her computer to aid in this quest.

It being Sunday, the Cabin was less busy than usual. Still, several sets of post-ballet class parent-and-child combinations were gathered around the big table, and the Hendersons were present for their post-church coffee and cake custom. They were a couple of early pensioner age who always had a smile for everyone and insisted on calling her Miss Heywood when they saw her.

Arthur was behind the counter, clearly filling in for whoever had called in sick. 'Charlotte! Hello, hello!'

'Hey, how're you?'

'Good! Mint or gingerbread latte today, dear girl?'

'Neither.'

He looked shocked and horrified. 'What?'

'Just a tea today. I don't need to load up on sugar.'

'As you wish, my lady! Now, how was the party on Friday night?'

'It was a schmoozefest like all those sorts of things. Weren't you there?'

Arthur shook his head rapidly back and forth. 'Oh no, no, no. No. No, not me.'

'Why not?'

'Lady A doesn't like me much. And look at me, I'm hardly health club material.'

Charlotte's temper flared. 'Who said that to you?'

'Oh, nobody. I can read between the lines.'

'That's absolute crap! If you want to be there, you should be welcome!'

'Oh, yeah. Well...' he paused while filling her teapot with hot water. 'It's not that so much... Lady Annabel hasn't forgiven me yet for a bit of an incident at her New Year's Party a few years ago.'

'What?'

'I... handled her pineapple.'

'_What? _That's... what?'

'It wasn't so much that I... she'd had a pineapple football made.'

'A what now?'

'You know those 1970s things with the pineapple and cheese on cocktail sticks that are... I dunno, _arranged_?'

'Oh, yeah. My mum used to make those for birthday parties.'

'Yeah, one of those.' He slid her tray across the counter and waved away her offer to actually pay for her drink. 'I found this hilariously retro and started waving it around. I'd had a shandy or two. Anyway, I let go accidentally, and it went flying and hit someone.'

'Oh.'

'Yeah. And, well...'

'Yeah?' She leaned in for the punchline.

'It was the Bishop of Chichester.'

'Oh. Ah.'

'He found it very funny once he was cleaned up and got rid of the pineapple smell in his hair I went down to Chichester six Saturdays in a row to help with the cleaning by way of apology. Lady A never forgave me.'

'Arthur, how old were you?'

'Fifteen.'

'Oh. Ah.'

'I didn't _mean_ to be so... obnoxious. And I was very sorry.'

'Was this...' she took a breath. 'Was this before or after your parents died?'

'Oh, after,' Arthur sounded too casual to be entirely sincere. 'Auntie Lally was still down with us, too.'

'So, Lady Annabel still hasn't forgiven you for something that happened when you were a fifteen-year-old boy whose parents had just died? What kind of fuckery is that?'

Arthur shrugged. 'I don't mind. Enjoy your tea. Lots of work?'

'Yeah.' She accepted his subject change request. 'More geography.'

'Don't work too hard.'

'I won't. Thanks, Arthur.'

Her table was empty, of course. It wasn't so much that people knew it was _hers _\- more that, on Sunday mornings, everyone else had other favourite tables.

Charlotte spread her books around the table and settled in for the long-haul. The parents-and-children left, replaced by a few tourists, who went and were replaced by others. The Hendersons finished their coffee, cake and Sunday newspapers and left hand in hand, as they always did.

A shadow fell over the table about two hours into her stint. She glanced up, somehow already knowing that it would be Sidney Parker.

'May I sit here?' he asked - tea tray of his own balanced on his left palm. He was dressed more casually than usual in jeans and a plain black t-shirt.

'There are literally _dozens_ of other tables free.'

'But this is _my _table.'

'Is it though?' she asked, thinking back to their first meeting. 'I don't see a little brass nameplate screwed on anywhere.'

He had the decency to appear a little chagrined. 'Touché, Miss Heywood. However, I do come in peace. Arthur said you'd been working for two and a half hours already and perhaps needed a break.'

'Two and a half hours? I don't think-' She checked her watch. At least thirty minutes more than she thought had indeed passed. Arthur at the counter frowned at her. 'Fine.'

He stood impatiently while she cleared some of the books away and he could sit. She noticed his fingernails were painted a bright purple colour but said nothing.

'What's your fuss about this table, Parker?'

'I just like it.'

'Nobody is _this _obnoxious without reason.'

He put his tray down and settled in the seat opposite her, stretching his long legs onto one of the free chairs. 'Of course I am.'

'You're self-aware at least.'

'Nothing but.'

'How are your friends?'

'Already gone back up to London. Crowe has a lecture this evening and Babington spends every third Sunday of the month at his aunt's house.'

'You make that sound ordinary, but he's so posh I bet she's like the Countess of Loch Ness or something.'

'Duchess of Sunderland, but you were close.'

'You're joking.'

He shook his head. 'Nope. We don't call him Lord Babington for fun. His mother is the Duke of Rochester's second daughter. She married down - a lowly Earl.'

'So is Babington going to be an earl one day?'

Sidney nodded. 

'Crikey. That's so weird and old-fashioned.'

'It is what it is.'

'How do you become mates with an earl? Future earl.'

'University. He, Crowe and I were in the same college.'

'Course you were.'

'What now, Heywood?'

'That's how the world works for the powerful and the wealthy. The right schools, the right colleges, the right contacts.'

'Capitalism is not my fault, woman.'

'I didn't say it was. And call me woman again, I _dare you_.'

He wisely said nothing. 

She shifted in her chair, stiff from so long sitting, working her aching left knee for a moment. 'I'm not attacking you, I'm commenting on the inevitability of the world in which we live.'

'And I can't do much about that on my own, can I?'

She sighed, feeling a circular argument brewing. 'Did you sleep well last night? After the floaty thing?'

'Very well, actually. Barely even heard the arguments upstairs.'

'Arguments?'

'Esther Denham and her step-brother are staying in the hotel too - she doesn't want to be too hemmed in with Lady A apparently, and I can hardly blame her - and there was some yelling. Also, some screaming and shouting. But once that was done, I slept better than I have for a long time. Have to do that again.'

'I would but-'

'But?'

'Arthur told me why he wasn't invited.'

'The pineapple?'

'Yeah.'

'Did he mention who it hit?'

'The Bishop of Chichester.'

'Yeah. Lady A might forgive anything, but not having fancy guests embarrassed. She'll get over it eventually.'

'How long ago _was_ that?'

'Nine years ago. But don't let that get in the way of anything. If Arthur really wanted to take part in all that malarkey, he could've prostrated himself before her a long time ago. I've half a suspicion he's secretly quite glad for the excuse.'

A final glance over at the counter and Charlotte sighed, not quite believing him but realising Sidney surely knew his brother better than she did .'Fine.'

Quiet then, as they both sipped at their tea. Charlotte gave up on work and put the rest of her books away.

'Are you coming to the house for Sunday lunch?' he asked from under half-closed eyes and behind a yawn.

She shook her head. 'Don't think so.'

'Why not?'

'You might think I stole your family away from you, but we're not actually attached at the hip.'

'All right.' He sipped tea again, and the sunshine reflected off his painted nails.

'Alicia did that?' she asked, nodding to his nails.

'Yeah. She's getting pretty good.'

'You didn't take it off.'

'Not yet. She'll think it's because she didn't do a good enough job. I'll sort it out when I get home.'

'See, this is what I mean. You're a _dick _to everyone else, but you let your niece paint your fingernails. And yes... she did an outstanding job for someone her age. But! Why can't you just be kind to everyone?'

'I haven't been a dick to you _once _since arriving.'

'So, you're saying ten minutes is a personal best?'

'I think it might be. And... If you happen to be in London... you are very welcome to accompany me to the British Museum.'

'Thank you, but I also do know that it's just something people say. It's not necessary.'

'There's an exhibit just opening about Troy. I can get us in for free with my membership-'

'Really?'

'Yes. As an apology for being a dick.'

'I haven't much call to go up to London-'

'Well, whenever you do... Just let me know.'

'How do I do that?'

'Oh... give me your phone.' He grabbed it from her and pushed her thumb against the pad to unlock it, in a manner that wasn't half as aggressive as it might have been. He tapped a dozen or so times. 'There. You have my number. I use WhatsApp usually.'

He tapped again, and his own phone rang. 'And now, I have yours.'

'OK. I'll think about it. And...'

'Yeah?'

'Why _ are _ you being nice to me now?'

'Because... you're right? I should be kinder.'

'That's all?'

'Isn't it enough?'

'In the best of all possible worlds, for sure. But we live in _this_ one.'

'Well, you're not as bad as I expected.'

'Oh, _ thanks _.'

'That came out wrong.'

'No, really?'

'Tom and Mary adore you. They're not usually wrong about people. Nor is Arthur.'

'And?'

'What, can't that be it?'

'No, I don't think it is.'

'Well...'

'Yeah?'

'I want you on my quiz team next time.'

'Aha! Now the truth comes out. You want to_ nobble the competition!_ I see...'

Charlotte was reasonably sure there was something else going on but, as she couldn't fathom what it would be, she allowed this reason to stand unquestioned further.

Her phone buzzed. She picked it up, assuming it was Sidney being daft. It was not. 'Mary just invited me to lunch.'

'Naturally. Want to hang out here with Arthur until it's time to head over?'

Her eyes narrowed. 'No, _really,_ why are you being nice to me?'

'Mary told me I should try harder.'

'And there we have it. Well, I would not upset Mary for the _world,_ so by all means, stay here.'

She did not speak again, and for a time, the only sound was ambient.

'You and Stringer...'

'What?'

'You and Stringer. Are you involved? Romantically?'

'Is that your business?'

'Not remotely, but I thought you might want to... chat.'

'We can _chat _about all sorts of things. The movies of Martin Scorsese, the current international political climate, whether the Rolling Stones have made a decent record since 1972-'

'Ah, now! You're often wearing t-shirts of old bands. What's that about?'

'I like them.'

'The t-shirts?'

'The bands, you dolt.'

'Really?'

'Is that so hard to believe?'

'But you-'

'If you mention my gender right now-'

'_Young_, I was going to say.'

'This may surprise you, Sidney, but I have parents, and they have a record collection. Also, you may have noticed that those old bands still get played quite a lot... everywhere.'

'Ah now, don't take offence. I was just surprised. So, Beatles or Stones?'

'Beatles. You?'

'Stones.'

She rolled her eyes. 'Of course.'

'But only up to Goat's Head Soup.'

'Including Goat's Head Soup or everything _ up to _?'

'Including.'

'God, why?'

'Because it includes "Dancing With Mr D", "Angie" _and_ "Starfucker".' He stretched in his chair, reaching above his head. If his shirt rode up a little, it was not for Charlotte to comment. 'It's a great record.'

'It's a patchy record that happens to include a handful of great tunes. Which is the Stones in a nutshell, really.'

'I cannot entirely disagree with that. But the Beatles? Bubblegum pop in comparison.'

'Bubblegum? You're a fool.'

'I suppose you're going to tell me now that John Lennon was a genius, ignoring his history of domestic abuse or the fact that his politics were... confused and unhelpful?'

'No. But he was, on a good day, a magnificent songwriter.'

'Who's your favourite? Paul, I suppose? A pretty bloke with a cheeky grin and cutesy voice.'

'Guess again, you absolute bag of dicks.' This last insult was muted slightly by her laughter.

'Go on, then.'

'George.'

'God, why?'

'Great guitarist.'

'Guitarists are your type, then?'

'Why do I have to have a _type_ to have an opinion? God.'

'Yes, my child?'

'Fuck off, Parker.'

'Charming, Heywood. Anyway, I wouldn't choose either the Stones or the Beatles if I had my way.'

'Who, then?'

'Exactly.'

'What?'

'Not what, Who.'

'What?'

'Not what, Who.'

'No, serio- are you really trying to pull that gag on me?'

'Worked, didn't it?'

'Do you really like The Who?'

'Oh, yeah. But for my money, the greatest band of the 1960s was surely the Jimi Hendrix Experience. I would listen to them forever and a day before bothering with any of the others.'

'That is... a fair argument with which I shall not argue.'

'See,' he grinned. 'We can chat pretty well, I reckon.'

'You are not _entirely _horrendous, I concede.'

'I'll take that. Now, if we can move into the 1970s and tackle the issue of Led Zeppelin-'

'Plagiarists and child abusers.'

'Yes, but...'

'The problem here is that there's always a _yes but,_ like a decent guitar riff exonerates you from being a child abuser!'

'It has not been proven.'

'Yeah, right.'

'Ramones, then. You like them?'

'Yep.'

'OK.'

'My answer was short and sharp in tribute to their musical style.' She sipped her tea.

'Fair enough. I'm not a fan of the punks, personally.'

'I bet you like _prog_.' This was presented very much as an accusation.

'Some of it,' he conceded. 'Yes, and early Genesis are good.'

'OK, _granddad_.'

'You're the twenty-five-year-old with an opinion about Goat's Head Soup!'

'And how old are you, exactly?'

'Thirty-two.'

'Ancient!' she hooted, kicking a leg of the chair he was resting his feet on. 'OId man! I don't know how you're even able to get up in the morning.'

A single eyebrow raise told her she'd said the wrong thing before he even opened his mouth. "Of all the problems I have, Heywood, getting it up in the morning is not one.'

She felt herself go red, not yet comfortable enough to undertake that kind of banter with him. There was only one way to counter it, and that was with more "absolute bantz". 'That's not what the graffiti in the pub toilets says.'

He sat up. 'The what now?'

'Gotcha.'

'And you call _me _a dick? That was mean-spirited.'

'Why would there be graffiti in the toilets about you, Parker? What have you been up to?'

'There used to be,' he mumbled. 'Eliza's friends wrote my number on the wall, back when we were all still in Sixth Form. Had to change my number.'

'That's... vicious. Why did that do that?'

All good humour gone, he sighed. 'I don't know. I think they thought she could do better. And she could, of course.'

'Fuck that,' Charlotte replied firmly, setting her now-empty teacup down. 'It's not about being good enough or not, it's about who you love the most, isn't it? About who fits with who.'

'You're a romantic, Heywood.'

'Yeah, well. As my sister points out, I've never been tested in that regard.'

'Huh?'

'It's easy to be a romantic when you've never had to live with the reality of romance.'

He sat up. 'Are you saying you've never had a serious boyfriend?'

'Never had a boyfriend. Didn't have the inclination while Daniel was there to be my crush... and then after that, I didn't... have the inclination at all.'

'I thought you said he was your boyfriend-'

'No, he was my _crush_. I never told him, or anyone, a thing. It would've been too embarrassing. I don't think even Lucy knew. I mean, he wasn't like my true love or anything, I don't think. But he was _beautiful_, and he was sweet and kind, and funny too. None of the spotty boys at school could measure up to that, and then the lads at uni were mostly even more obnoxious than you are.'

'Thanks.' He rolled his eyes even as he regarded her as if for the first time. 'Wow, that's...'

'Just the way it is.' Charlotte shrugged. 'Shall we head over to the house now?'

He checked his watch. 'Sure. Arthur, do you want any help closing up?'

'No, all done except for the cash.'

'We'll go on ahead then. All right?'

Arthur waved them away, and so Sidney and Charlotte stepped out into the fresh sea air to walk along to Tom and Mary's house.

'So...' Sidney began.

'Don't judge me, Parker.'

'I'm not, honestly!' To the surprise of both, this was true. 'I just... I'm curious. You've never... does that mean you're a-'

'Yes.'

'Oh. OK.' they continued walking. 'That's...'

'Just the way it is. None of that_ means_ anything.'

'What about... have you ever been _kissed, _ even?"

'No, not really.'

'Not really?'

'When I was thirteen, Billy Jenkins planted a smacker on my mouth and then ran away to laugh with his mates.'

'So, no?'

'No. Don't judge-'

'I'm not! I'm just surprised.'

'Why?'

'Because someone... forgive me, I cannot believe someone as... _attractive _as you hasn't been snaffled up. I mean, the more I get to know you, the more clear it is because your personality sucks-'

'Fuck off, Parker.' She at least appreciated the levity. 'It's just what it is. Not much scope in Willingden and the lads at uni were mostly _lads lads lads _types. Not for me.'

'Well, I'm sorry. Being in love sucks when it's bad, but when it's good... it's very good.'

'I'm sure I'll learn that one of these days.'

'I'm sure you will.' He stopped still right there on the promenade.

She halted in response. 'What?'

'I just thought- no. Never mind.'

'What?'

'It seems very unfair that you've never been kissed as you ought to be.'

'Really.'

'Yes, really. And...' Sidney shook his hair a little. 'I am willing to offer myself as a host body should you wish to at least get that first one out of the way.'

She laughed out loud at that. 'Host body? You're mad, Parker.'

Another grin. 'Of course.'

She sighed. 'That's a very _kind _thing to offer, Sidney. But I've left it this long - I might as well hang on until there's someone I really love. Someone I kiss because the idea of _not _kissing them is too ridiculous. Does that make sense? Probably very juvenile and naive to you-'

'I understand. Really.' He shrugged, and they resumed walking. 'I wish I didn't know it, but I do.'

'When love's good, it's great. And when it's bad... it's very, very bad?' she guessed.

'Something like that.'

'I'm sorry.'

'You don't have to be sorry. You didn't do it. The older I get, the more I realise we were always doomed.'

'Yeah?'

'Eliza's the kind of person who's always looking for the best thing. She took up with me because I was the best looking boy in our year.'

'Modest, too.'

'It means nothing. I just was. And there wasn't a lot of competition - it wasn't that I was anything extraordinary. She will always want the best, the richest, the best-looking, the most powerful, the cleverest, the best connected, whatever measure.'

'I'm sorry. You deserve better than that. Everyone does.'

Sidney turned to stare out at the waves rolling gently onto Sanditon beach. 'It's just life. You're probably better off out of the whole thing. It's all very depressing, you know.'

'I do know.'

'Yes,' he said, perking up. 'Definitely better off out of it. Now, Heywood, we really ought to get along to the house. I'm going to dig out Tom's copy of _ Let it Bleed _on vinyl, and you're going to listen to it and admit that you're wrong and the Beatles are the inferior specimens.'

She audibly scoffed at that. 'And then _I'll _play you his copy of _Revolver_.'

'And the whole cycle will begin again. Heaven versus hell, good versus evil-'

'You're such a drama queen.'

'Indubitably.'

The rest of the short walk passed in such a manner, and by the time they reached the house, they were openly, loudly laughing.

Mary met them at the door. 'Glad to see you two are getting on now.'

'Not at all!' Sidney declared. 'Can't fucking stand her.'

Charlotte gasped for breath: 'He's an arsehole.'

Mary sighed. 'God. Could you at least limit the swearing indoors? I'd rather not get called into school because one or another of the little ones started effing and blinding.'

'Fine.' Sidney took a deep breath and made a good showing of being calm and collected. For a moment, before he started laughing again.

Charlotte did a better job. 'Sorry, Mary.'

'Where's Arthur?'

'On his way.'

'Come in then. No use wasting this levity out here when you can spread the madness to three small children.'

*

Sidney drove home to London that afternoon, stuffed full of stuffing and roast potatoes and chicken.

As he passed the sign saying 'Thank you for visiting sunny Sanditon! Visit again soon!' Sidney found that he was a little deflated to be leaving.

If that had _ever _happened, it was at least ten years since the last time.

*


	11. Two Fridays In a Row

The following Friday, Charlotte woke abruptly in a cold sweat. Something had yanked her out of her slumber, and she didn't know what. Her heart thumped almost painfully in her chest.

Everything was still and quiet, as was expected at - she checked the clock - 6.15 am. What had done that? Was it something outside, or had her brain done it? The light filtering through the curtains was still thin - not yet the height of long summer days but enough.

It wouldn't be the first time nightmares had woken her, after all, but it didn't feel like terror, exactly.

She lay back and focused on her breathing. In and out, slowly on a count of three, then four, then six until her heart slowed to a more reasonable speed.

Without meaning to, Charlotte began to catalogue all her tasks for the coming day. Editing the book would take much of her time, and she was booked on a spin class at the health club, so she might as well take all her stuff there and work out of the cafe.

Giving up on sleep for the moment, she rolled over and reached out for her phone where it sat charging. Might as well read something while she wasn't sleeping.

A series of messages distracted her from her initial plan, all of them sent after she'd gone to bed.

** Tom**: Hello do you want to come to the OP today we have a plan i will be there from 3pM   
**Mary**: Might not be able to do quiz tonight - babysitter unwell.  
**The Best Parker:** Looks like we're coming back to fucking Sanditon again this weekend thanks to Babington's crush on the ginger.

Charlotte blinked. She'd not had cause to look at her contacts since Sidney grabbed her phone and added his details. "The Best Parker"? Cocky bastard.

A series of messages pinged in real-time:

**James:** On the first bloody train to Edinburgh. Kings Cross first thing sucks.   
**James:** Sorry, meant to say that I won't make it tonight. Called up to the Scottish site last minute. Some fuck up with the concrete pour. Had to drive up to London to make the train.   
**James:** Least it was quiet.  
**James:** Back on Tuesday, probably. Going to stop over and see Luke on the way.  
**James:** Sorry.

She tapped out a quick 'no worries' message and let her eyes flutter shut again.

**James:** Why are you awake? Nightmares again?  
**Me:** Just woke up. Don't know why.

A rumble outside announced the arrival of the dustmen, then the rattle of bins. At that point, Charlotte gave up on trying to sleep and sat up. She could get an early start this way and perhaps finish early.

In fact, Charlotte's day went outrageously well and according to plan. The early rising had not disrupted her too severely - instead of lunchtime spin, she booked herself on the 08:15 class and used the endorphins to power through her work and was able to send back a complete edit of_ Stalking the Wilderness _before lunch.

An email from her boss arrived soon after that: _Great stuff, Charlotte! What a way to finish the week. Had chat with Hopper on the phone just now - she's going to work through the edits and notes next week as she's offline in the fjords this weekend. Log off and see you Monday! _

What this likely meant in truth was that Sash himself wanted to get an early start on his weekend, but she would take it. 

Lady Annabel, although not directly employed by the spa, had taken to circulating amongst guests to schmoose, and as Charlotte was one of the few in the quiet of a Friday pre-lunchtime, the Lady honed in on her.

'Miss Heywood! You look well today!'

'Thank you, Lady Annabel. So do you. How're things?'

'Good, good! Tom Parker has some big announcement for the Pavilion, I hear.'

'It's on hold for now,' Charlotte told her. 'James had to rush up to Scotland for his other project.'

The lady frowned then. 'Not good to have an architect spread so thin. Perhaps we ought to find-'

'He'll be back soon. The other project is almost done. I understand it was a last-minute issue. And the pavilion is so much smaller in scale. I know he can do it.'

'You are very loyal to your friends, Miss Heywood.'

This was the opening Charlotte had been waiting for. 'Yes. Including Arthur Parker.'

Lady A's lips thinned to the point of invisibility. 'That man-'

'He was fifteen and grieving both his parents. Are you really going to hold that against him? The Bishop certainly doesn't, as I understand it.'

Lady Annabel sighed. 'You weren't there. It was a disgrace.'

'It was a long time ago, and he's grown up since then.'

'Well.'

'This is a small town,' Charlotte pressed. 'It's unkind to exclude him and almost nobody else. I mean, are you telling me that nobody else has ever done anything wrong? Because I note you invited Paul Wilson to the opening and he's done time for embezzlement. Which is more serious than throwing pineapples. Don't you think?'

Lady Annabel did not reply for some time. 'You do like to give your opinions, Miss Heywood.'

'I thought that's why you liked me.'

The Lady relented then. 'It is. Very well... I shall speak to that young man at my earliest convenience.'

'Thank you.'

'I had another reason for coming to speak to you. We are running a series of promotional activities soon, and I thought that an attractive, fit young thing like you was just the sort we should include. Will you?'

Ah, and here was the reason for the free membership.

'If my schedule allows, of course.' In truth, Charlotte wanted to run far away.

'Excellent! I shall have the team get in touch. In the meantime, enjoy your day.' Lady Annabel swished away, heading towards a couple sat on the terrace.

Charlotte remained a little longer, wondering how best to fill her unexpectedly empty Friday afternoon. It was a lovely day - just the sort of early summer day that she loved: just warm enough to be t-shirt weather but not overwhelming.

And that was when the idea came to mind. She packed up her stuff, headed home and got her bike out. A cycle up and down the coast was exactly the thing.

*

'Are you listening, Parker?'

Sidney blinked, the hypnosis of driving broken. Babington was frowning from the Aston's passenger seat.

'I really wasn't,' he admitted. 'I assumed you were banging on about the ginger-'

'Her name is_ Esther_.'

'OK, I assume you were banging on about _Esther _again, and I've heard it. Not only have I heard it repeatedly, but I'm also driving to Sanditon early on a Friday afternoon so that you can get to see _Esther _as early as you possibly can, even though she has not shown a single shred of interest in you.'

'Harsh, Parker.' Babington paused. 'But fair. She's... extraordinary.'

'You sound like a lovesick seventeen-year-old, man.' Sidney sighed and decided to be kinder. 'You really like this one?'

'Yes,' Babington admitted. 'I really do.'

'You must admit your love life has been a catastrophe for the last few years.'

'Not a catastrophe. I just...'

'You fall in love too easily,' Sidney interrupted. It wasn't the first time they'd had this conversation. 'And they don't.'

'I know that. I can't help my nature, though.'

'At least be aware of what's going on. The power dynamic, if nothing else. It's unevenly set in their favour, and it means you get trampled. Every time.'

'Not every time. Cecily was very sweet.'

'And she still trampled on your feelings. I don't say any of this to be cruel.'

'I know. That's what we have Crowe for.' Babington glanced back to the empty back seat. 'Where is he this weekend?'

'CERN.'

'Of course. You were able to get rooms at the hall?'

'Yep. No more Alhambra, thank fuck.'

'I feel bad for them. They're going to lose a lot of trade.'

'I spoke to Charlie. Not as much - they've still got the middle of the market. The Hall is too expensive for a lot of folks, and the Premier Inn is too far outside town for some. I think they'll be all right.'

'For someone who professes to loathe Sanditon, you do seem to take a deep interest in its goings-on.'

'I've known Charlie since I was a kid, is all. He was in the year above me at school.'

'Right. That's all it is.' Babington grinned, which Sidney did not like at all. 'That's why you're coming back with me for another Friday. Two in a row!'

'I can't let you go through this alone.'

'And it's nothing to do with that nubile young woman-'

Sidney's knuckles went white on the steering wheel. 'Don't call her that.'

Babington's grin broadened. 'I knew it! You all but pulled her pigtails and pushed her over in the playground!'

'Fuck off, Babs. It isn't that.'

'Sure, sure.'

'Babs.'

'I believe you. Really.'

'She's more interesting than I thought at first,' Sidney conceded. 'But really, it isn't that. It's quite refreshing, actually, to talk to a woman who has absolutely no interest in me like that.'

'Yes, being pursued and desired by lots of beautiful women really is_ tiring_, eh?'

'Come on,' Sidney sighed and loosed his grip a little as he indicated for the turn-off for Sanditon. 'It's a fucking meat market.'

'Always has been. At least it's more equal opportunities these days.'

'I hate it.'

'You didn't always hate it.'

'I always hated it, but I will admit there was a time I was a more active participant.'

'Maybe you like this other girl just because she isn't part of that whole world. And that's... not enough.'

Sidney did not answer this for fear of giving too much away. He had spent the entire week trying and failing to stop thinking about how _fun_ Sunday had been.

Charlotte's revelations about her romantic inexperience had shaken him a little. While some men might value a questionable notion of purity over all things, he found that a rather distasteful approach. It was no business of his what she had or hadn't done, not least because he wasn't really interested in that way. It was just curiosity.

Whatever the reason, he'd found his thoughts drifting towards Sanditon more often than not, and he didn't like that one bit. 

'Oho!' Babington cried out suddenly. 'Look who it is!'

There, on the curve where the road hugged the coastline, and the council had created a picturesque little rest stop/photo opportunity spot, was a dark-haired young woman with a bike. _Charlotte Heywood. _

She looked perfectly at ease leant against the tourist information board drinking from a_ Sanditon Real Ale Festival _branded water bottle.

'Pull over,' Babington commanded. 'See if she wants a lift back.'

'There's nowhere to put the bike. I'm not having it scratch my baby.'

'Oh, come on! What were the chances of us talking about her and then her being right there?'

'It's Sanditon, where she lives, so quite high.'

She must've seen them and recognised the car because she waved in a friendly sort of manner. That was enough for Sidney, who pulled over at almost the last moment.

Babington opened his window. 'Are you well, Miss Heywood?'

'Yep. I heard you were coming back today.'

Babington glanced over at Sidney and quirked an eyebrow. 'Curious. Will you be at the Denham Arms this evening for the quiz?'

'Probably not. My whole team is unavailable, so you have a chance at winning this time.'

'Oh, dear! You must join us instead!' Babington's grin turned all the way up to "shit-eating". 'Crowe isn't here, and it's just the two of us.'

'I didn't know we were going,' Sidney muttered. 

'You must join us, Miss Heywood!'

'You can call me Charlotte. Miss Heywood sounds like a Dickensian spinster.'

Sidney snorted at that one, which caused her to narrow her eyes at him. 

'I really wasn't going-'

'Oh you must, Charlotte! Without Crowe, we know nothing about anything remotely scientific. Please, Obi-Wan Kenobi, you're our only hope.'

'I don't think that's true but... fine. I'll meet you there.'

'Brilliant! Now, can we offer you a lift somewhere?'

'Thank you, but no. I wouldn't want to risk scratching such a car with the bike even if there was somewhere to put it.'

'As you wish, Charlotte.' Babington saluted her. 'See you later.'

Sidney pulled away from the rest stop in a crunch of gravel and rubber. 'What the fuck did you do that for?'

'She's smart, and I want to win the pub quiz.'

'You hate pub quizzes.'

'Esther indicated she might be there.'

'Fuck's sake.'

'What's wrong, Sid? You're allowed to like her-'

'She belongs to Tom and Mary. If I messed things up - which I certainly would - they would never forgive me.'

'She doesn't belong to anyone, you fool. If she wants to have some fun-'

'She's a good person and doesn't deserve me as her- never mind. She's just a good person, and I would invariably fuck that up, so... never mind.'

'Well, it's just as well this is one pub quiz and not a proposal of marriage or something, then.'

Sidney sighed. 'True.'

'You're such a drama queen sometimes.'

Charlotte had been the last person to call him a drama queen. She and Babs were right. It was one measly pub quiz, nothing more. He did fancy winning a box of decent chocs, and the Denham Arms had a very nice selection of whiskeys...

'We'd better win, is all.'

*


	12. University Challenged

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the super comments - I think I'm a bit behind in replying but I'll get stuck in soon.
> 
> Also, I'm... really sorry for what's about to happen.

The usual crowd - usual both in size and constituents - descended upon the Denham Arms for the Friday night pub quiz.

Charlotte was one of the first to arrive. She was unsettled at the idea of being on Sidney Parker's quiz team after the tumultuous ride they'd been on since the last time. 

Her cycle back home after her encounter with the chaps in the Aston Martin had been consumed with her thoughts about it.

That Lord Babington was a charming git, and it had been impossible to say no without blowing up the conversation. It still meant though, that she was going to have to be part of _University Challenged_, competing with Sidney Parker instead of against him.

Well, they were still going to sit at _her _usual table. Charlotte hadn't arrived early with the explicit desire to stake that particular claim, but it happened anyway. She had deliberately dressed to look like she hadn't put in any effort at all - didn't want them thinking she was _eager _to hang out with them.

She had been nursing the same cranberry soda for an hour when they sauntered in looking like they'd stepped out of a _GQ_ spread called _Summer Seaside Casual For The Wealthy_. 

'You made it!' Babington, to his credit, seemed genuinely pleased to see her. 'And you nabbed us the best table. Great work!'

'Drinks?' Sidney asked, glancing down at her. 'My round.'

'A pint of whatever ale that was the other time,' Babington asked.

'Heywood?'

'I'll have a half of the _Jolly Jack Tar_.'

'The what?'

'Chas knows. And thank you.'

Babington settled down, and they shared some meaninglessly polite chitchat until Sidney arrived with three glasses: a pint of real ale for Babington, half of a purple-gold beer for Charlotte and a bottle of Peroni for himself.

'I don't even know what muck this is,' Sidney said as he slid her glass over. 'But Chas seemed amused.'

'it's from a craft brewery down the road. Beer with a bit of rum flavouring. It's fabulous.'

'Sounds dreadful.'

'And yet you're not being asked to drink it, so all's well that ends well.'

Babington snickered but stopped when Sidney glared. Something was going on between them, but she had no idea what.

'Who wants to scribe?' she asked, holding a Bic biro aloft. 

'Not I,' Babington said. 'Terrible handwriting.'

'You probably want to do it,' Sidney guessed. 'And I would hate to step on your toes.'

'No,' she said, even if she _ was _ the usual scribe for her own team 'I'm sure you need to be in control, so you have it.'

He rolled his eyes at her. 'Takes one to know one.'

'Very grown-up.' She rolled the pen across the table to him.

'You know, I've just remembered,' said Babington. 'I was watching a film last night. Bloody old but bloody good. Spencer Tracy and Katharine Hepburn. Very funny, too. Don't know why I just thought of it.'

'Which one?' Charlotte asked. 'I like Woman of the Year.'

'Of course, you do,' Sidney laughed. 'I'm surprised your favourite Katharine Hepburn isn't The African Queen.'

It was like being doused in ice water. Charlotte slammed her glass down onto the table, spitting fire from her eyes. 'OK, first of all: kudos for even knowing that. Second: fuck the fuck off.'

Sidney blinked. What had he said that was so wrong? Babington seemed as surprised. 'What did I- I meant it in a nice way!'

'Right. Yeah. Uh-huh.'

'Yeah,' Sidney returned hotly. 'She gives no fucks and takes no shit, does the impossible and then _smashes the German navy_. What an insult, eh?'

Charlotte's eyes narrowed. 'Yeah right. And nothing to do with her being a dried-out old spinster?'

'What? No!'

She sighed. 'Fine. Sorry. I just... Never mind. Sorry for overreacting.'

'No worries. Just... I didn't mean anything bad by it. My mum used to love all those sorts of films, you know. Always something on the TV when I was a boy.'

'My grandmother was _mad _on Gene Kelly,' Babington added. 'Sent me to dance classes to be just like him.'

Charlotte smiled, humour returning. 'And are you? Just like Gene Kelly?'

'I have some moves, but I don't like to show off.'

'Don't listen to him,' Sidney said. 'He'll show off at any given opportunity.'

'One day, perhaps,' she suggested. 'In the meantime, the quizmaster just stood up.'

The quiz started then. University Challenged did well on Round One: Rules of Grammar and Round Two: Prime Ministers. They smashed Round Three: Sport and Charlotte learnt that Babington knew so much about horses because his father owned a successful racing stable. Round Four: Connections was a little tougher and Round Five: Classical Music was a total bust. 

Still, by the time the final round rolled up, Charlotte was stunned to find herself having a whale of a time. Babington was hilarious and smart; Sidney was the Sidney Parker she'd come to know, but more so. In the presence of his friends, comfortable and secure, he seemed less combative, and even the way he lounged seemed more just the way he was than a conscious attempt to look _cool_.

'Round Ten!' called the Quizmaster. 'Odds and sods!'

'One for you then, Parker,' Babington joked.

The first few questions were random and very odd, as the round name indicated. Then:

'Who stars opposite Humphrey Bogart in the 1951 John Huston epic_ The African Queen_?'

Charlotte and Sidney looked at each other and burst into raucous laughter. 

University Challenged won comfortably, and Sidney held the Waitrose chocolates aloft proudly until even Arthur was yelling at him to sit down.

'Well done, chaps!' Babington said, tearing into the box. 'The strawberry cream is _mine_.'

'By what rights?' Sidney demanded.

Babington waved a vague hand. 'Oh, I dunno. _Droit de seigneur_ or something.'

Charlotte laughed, pleasantly buzzed by the right amount of beer, the joy of a good evening and the triumph of winning. 'Arthur, come and join us!'

'I'm no longer the enemy?' 

'No longer. Sit!'

He did, between Charlotte and his brother, which was a weird sort of relief for her. 'You smashed the lot of us, really you did! Nobody stood a chance!'

'Don't look at me,' Babington held his hands up. 'I barely touched the thing. It was Sidney and Charlotte wrestling over the pen!'

This had been briefly true at one point when Charlotte had been so eager to answer that she'd snatched the pen from Sidney and started writing over him. 

'They do make a good team!' Arthur agreed. 'Just the other day, Jenny was telling me all about how Uncle Sidney and Charlotte helped them build their new Lego airport. Record time, she said!'

'Really?' Babington looked like he was all but taking notes. 'He didn't mention.'

'It was just a quick thing after dinner,' Charlotte said. 'Weird she should make such a fuss.'

'Yes,' Arthur agreed 'Very weird.'

Perhaps Charlotte was just paranoid but was he smirking at Babington about something?

They remained in the pub until Chas kicked them out. All merry but not quite _drunk_, they headed towards the beach as they had after the last quiz they'd all attended.

The weather was a little warmer, but not much. They talked in the rambling, silly way that people will do when they are pleasantly inebriated.

Charlotte chose to listen more than talk. She had not often been the token girl in a group of boys, and it was interesting to hear how differently - and similarly - they communicated compared to girls.

In truth, there wasn't a great deal of difference, except perhaps these young men found ways to express feelings through metaphor and stand-ins like sport or work, rather than being as frank and blunt as women often were.

She learnt that Babington was hopelessly in love with Esther Denham - and that he had a habit of falling in love every so often and they did not always stick. She already knew that Arthur was hoping to move up to London for a while, but until Sidney drilled him about job applications, she hadn't known how serious he was. Sidney himself was still something of an enigma, fluctuating as always between morosely quiet and charmingly animated depending on the topic. 

She hadn't known that Arthur and Sidney held an annual _Star Wars _marathon and had since Arthur was six and terrified of Darth Vader.

'...and d'you know,' Arthur told them. 'Sidney sat with me through all the of the films to make sure I wasn't too scared. I only found out later that he didn't like them!'

'It's not that I don't like them,' Sidney said from his position sprawled on his back on the sand. 'More than I just don't lose my mind over them.'

'I'd like to see 'em on a big screen,' Arthur said, almost as if Sidney hadn't spoken in the way siblings often did. 'But the nearest cinema is all the way over in Hastings.'

'There's a cinema on the promenade,' Babington said. 'Old-fashioned thing.'

'Closed in 1998,' Sidney told him. 'The last film they showed was _Armageddon_.'

'An ignoble end for a cinema,' Charlotte commented, earning a snicker from Sidney. 'Hasn't anyone tried to open it since?'

'Chas and his family tried, but the business plan didn't work. Not enough call for it. Back then everyone was watching VHS, now it's DVDs or streaming or whatever.'

'But-' Charlotte sat up straight and felt her head swim. 'I know other little cinemas have been resurrected or saved more recently. They specialise in older films, festivals and that. Wouldn't that be a bit more useful to the town than a spiffed up pavilion.'

'It wouldn't work.'

'Why not?'

'Because the place is half-derelict, the equipment was either sold off or has fallen apart or is obsolete and _who is going to come to fucking Sanditon to watch a fucking film?' _

Charlotte had a sniping response on the tip of her tongue when she stopped. There was almost certainly more to his reaction than met the eye. Hadn't that been the case every time he'd snapped like this?

'It's worth thinking about,' she said. 'Hotel guests, health club guests. It's another thing to keep people in town. Or attract them here.'

'She's not wrong,' Babington said, although he was nearly asleep on the sand. 'And everyone likes some air conditioning when it's sweltering. And the school holidays. When_ do _the schools break for summer?'

'Jenny and Alicia's school finishes on the 22nd July or something,' said Sidney. 'CLC is earlier.'

The conversation shifted back then to the economics of resurrecting the cinema until Arthur paused.

'When is Georgiana coming back? I miss her.'

'Next Saturday.'

'Are you picking her up?'

'Of course.'

For a moment, Charlotte struggled to recall if she knew of Georgiana.

'I missed her at Christmas. You were cruel to keep her from us!'

'Arthur, I didn't keep her from anyone. She was invited to Gstaad by a schoolfriend!'

Ah, now Charlotte remembered. Georgiana was Sidney's ward. There were pictures of her around Trafalgar House, and she came up in conversation regularly, but they had never met. The children called her Gigi, she knew.

Arthur had more to say. 'It's cruel to make her go to boarding school, too.'

'Did she tell you that?'

'No.'

'She goes to Cheltenham Ladies' College because that's what her parents wanted. And because it would be absolutely outrageously inappropriate for a grown man like me to live alone with a seventeen-year-old girl.'

'She could stay here-'

'You're under the impression she likes Sanditon any more than I do. Let me tell you a thing or two.'

'Arthur.'

'I look forward to meeting her,' Charlotte interrupted. 'I hear so much about her that I feel I already know her, a little.'

Mind you, she'd thought the same about Sidney himself, and the stories she heard from Tom and Mary were, at least, incomplete and biased.

Sidney sat up then. 'God, that means three fucking Sanditon weekends in a row.'

'A record not broken for at least... five years?' Arthur asked.

'Try ten. Babs, you coming next weekend?'

'Sorry, duckie, I've been summoned home. Auntie Sunderland is visiting and I'm the only one she'll put up with.'

'Ah well. Maybe Crowe will be out from under the Large Hadron Collider by then.'

'Can you be _under _the Large Hadron Collider?' Charlotte asked.

'How would I know? Crowe's the genius, not me. All I know about it is... its name, actually.' Sidney took this as his cue to sit up. 'I should call us a taxi-'

'We're a taxi. There, done it for you.' Babington giggled like a child.

'Get that joke carbon dated, someone. You're a wanker, Babs.'

'True.'

They hadn't brought any alcohol onto the beach and were starting to sober up enough to find the cold and damp uncomfortable so, as if one mind, they rose up and made their way back to the prom.

Arthur hugged everyone else in turn, warm and affectionate as always. He then bowed grandly to them before turning away down the street to the Old Stationmaster's Cottage, his home next door to the Coffee Cabin. 'Night, dear ones!'

'We'll walk you home,' Babington told Charlotte. 'No need to wait for our taxi with us.'

'I don't need to be walked home,' she replied.

'Oh, but-'

'Really, I don't.'

'But-'

'We can see her front door from here, Babs.' Sidney looked down at her - had he always been this tall or had she shrunk in the wash? 'You're in 1D, Tom said?'

'Yep.'

'I lived there for a while. Nice view of the sea.'

'Yes, it is. I didn't know that. About you living there.'

'When I was just out of university. My mum said I should have my own space.'

'How nice to just have a flat flying around.' There was something jesting there, but also something sharper that if given a label, would rhyme with _snivellage. _

'We own most of Sanditon, to be fair.'

'So...' She looked right at him, which seemed to startle him a little. 'When you complain about Sanditon, it's really your own fault?'

He blinked once, twice and a third time. For a moment he looked like he wanted to actually hit her, but he didn't move a muscle. 

'I'm flattered that you think I hold such power. I assure you, I do not.'

'Maybe if you engaged with the place and actually _did_ something rather than just sneering or hating on the place. Like the cinema. I bet you have investors who'd be interested. I bet if you put even a tenth of the energy you waste hating Sanditon into making it a better place, it'd rival Brighton by Christmas!'

'My God, woman, do you never tire of hearing your own fucking voice?' There was no humour left, not a single shred.

Babington interjected then: 'Steady on, Sid.'

'It must be so exhausting to be so fucking right all the fucking time!'

Babington actually slapped a hand on his friend's chest then. 'Sidney!'

Charlotte wanted to punch him, truly she did. Something saner held fast and instead, she felt nothing but cold. 'Thank you for leaving me in absolutely no doubt as to your actual opinion of me. Good night, gentlemen.'

She set her shoulders, flipped her hair over her shoulder and walked away along the prom to Waterloo Terrace. No matter how badly she might want to, Charlotte did not look back. 

Just as she was closing her front door, a taxi drove past on its way to collect her quiz teammates.

*


	13. Enter Gigi, Stage Right

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for all the comments - always appreciated!
> 
> This is a slightly less... hectic? chapter. Lots of talking and maybe a bit too much of the old Basil Exposition but let's just go with it for now as it moves everything along quite nicely, I think.
> 
> (The Russian used is taken from Google translate so any mistakes are mine but I don't necessarily realise because it is not my language)

Excepting a brief glimpse across the Sanditon Hall terrace, as she left Spin class on Sunday morning, Charlotte didn't see Sidney at all during the rest of the weekend. 

She was sure that although she could've been a bit less forceful about the cinema idea, and her joke about Sanditon being Sidney's fault landing poorly, she hadn't really justified his response to her.

So, as he wasn't actually as much 100% Arsehole as initially thought, she did wonder what had caused him to thrash out as he had.

But fuck, if he called her _woman_ one more time...

Sunday lunch with the Parkers was eaten _sans Sidney, _which shouldn't have felt incomplete but somehow did.

'Shame Sidney had to get back to London early,' said Mary as she scooped sweet potato mash onto Henry's plate. 'But he'll be back next weekend.'

'Gigi!' Alicia bounced in her seat. 'Gigi's coming home!'

'Yes sweetie,' Mary said, now placing at least 54% more green beans on Henry's plate than he wanted. 'Eat them all, Henry, or no pudding.'

'I look forward to meeting her,' Charlotte said.

'She's a lovely young lady,' Mary said. 'Given everything that's happened.'

Charlotte wanted to ask more but felt it was impolite and not for the children's ears. So, she said nothing and ate her own sweet potato mash.

*

The week passed quickly. She had a new book to work on: an English textbook that included the likes of_ fronted adv__erbials_ and excluded anything close to _fun, _a situation she tried to rectify without rewriting the entire thing. 

Her new habit was to start the day in the health club, either at spin or in the gym, and then spend the morning in the cafe working on one or another of her projects. Then a walk home along the coast to eat lunch and finish the working day at her own desk.

Every so often, her finger hovered over "THE BEST PARKER" on her phone to send a message of apology, but then Charlotte would remember the look on his face as he yelled at her.

If he thought so little of her, any apology she could make would mean very little.

It was OK. Who needed a mercurial drama queen like Sidney Parker? She'd get round to changing the label eventually, too.

Saturday was the first Saturday of July, and the beach was busy with families when she arrived with the Parker children. An ice-cream van was parked up to provide soft serve and 99s (Flake optional) to anyone with the desire and loose change, while Mr Barker ran his Punch & Judy show opposite.

These were the kind of days where one really could see the magic of a town like Sanditon. Almost all of these people had come from further afield - the beach and supermarket car parks were rammed - and all that they really needed were a few more diversions to keep them longer.

A cinema, for example. She hadn't necessarily meant to mention it to Tom - God knew he didn't need any more ideas - but it had come up in conversation that Thursday evening, while she helped with paperwork and he and James were talking about the Pavilion.

'Wouldn't something more tangible be more directly useful?' she asked. 'The thing about the Pavilion is that it just... _is_. It doesn't do anything. You can't charge people to use it.'

'It's a focal point for the town!' Tom replied, all effusion. 'But I take your point. Should we monetise it-'

James cut that train of thought off at the root: 'You can't monetise a pavilion, Tom.'

'What did you have in mind, then?' 

'Well...' She took a breath. 'The cinema. It could bring people to town, to begin with. It'll keep them here on days when the weather isn't good. What wet weather activities are there? Not many.'

'Wax museum?'

'Tom,' James said. 'That bloody place has been named the worst wax museum in the country five times. The only reason it's still open is that Max owns his own freehold and doesn't mind sitting in an empty museum eight hours a day if he can read his Len Deighton novels.'

'Well, yes, but- ah, the actual museum!'

'People will only visit the Sanditon Museum if they're already interested in Sanditon. Nobody is coming just for that,' Charlotte reasoned. She left out the fact that 98% of the museum was focused on the Parker Family and thus significantly more enjoyable to Tom Parker than 99.99% of people who had or would ever set foot in town.

'It's not an impossible idea, the cinema,' James said. 'Chas still owns it, far as I know. I've not refurbished a cinema before, and it sounds like fun.'

'I'll speak to Sidney about investors.'

'Maybe we should look into it first,' said Charlotte. 'Take him a real, formal proposal rather than a half-baked idea.'

'Then I leave that in your capable hands! Yes, I like that idea very much. Now, with the Pavilion, I really do think we should rethink the gold leaf-'

'Tom,' James said. 'Even your ancestors realised very quickly that actual gold leaf was a bad idea. We can use gold paint, and it'll look even better than leaf would. A can of decent spray paint is all you need.'

'But... OK. So, the opening ceremony is pencilled in for Bank Holiday Monday-'

James actually held a hand up to stop him. 'Don't plan anything until I've had the final survey done. If there are any structural or integral issues needing repair, you'll have wasted your time.'

'Yes, yes, but... fine. Oho- it's Sidney!' Tom's phone was vibrating - Charlotte saw the name was "Little Brother No 1" so apparently they all had a habit of using daft names. He answered: '_Bore da_, brother!'

The volume was high enough that they could hear him clearly enough: 'You're not Welsh, Tom, and it's not the morning. Have you a minute?'

'For you, of course!'

'Are you alone?'

'James Stringer and Charlotte are here. I'll put them on speaker-'

'Wait a sec-' Sidney's voice then blasted into the room. 'Never mind. Hello. I have some news. It does concern you, Stringer, so just as well.'

'Hit us with it,' James replied, clearly not expecting good news.

'The Seaside Resort Conservation Fund rejected the Old Pavilion scheme. They said it's not of sufficient historical or aesthetic interest. Sorry.'

'We still have Lady Annabel-'

'The SRCF money made the scheme feasible this summer, Tom,' Sidney reminded him. 'Spend this year fundraising to start work next, and use Lady A for more useful means. You can't bleed the woman dry.'

'I know, I know, but-'

'I was talking to a chap at a party the other night. A hedge fund manager with more money than he knows what to do with, and a film buff. I reckon he might be interested in supporting a cinema refurb, and that's a more tangible activity that might draw visitors-'

'How funny, Sid! We were just talking about that.'

'Ah.'

'I just mentioned it,' Charlotte said. 'I didn't think you liked the idea.'

'I didn't,' Sidney sounded even blunter over the phone. 'And then I talked to Milo.'

'I'm going to have Charlotte put together a proposal,' Tom told him. 'We'll send it to you.'

'That will be helpful,' Sidney conceded. 'Milo knows a bit about cinemas in London but a resort cinema will be something else. Stringer, could you ask Chas to let you in to have a look at the place? We need to know what structural issues there are. It's been closed for 20 bloody years... I'll let Milo know we're putting a proposal together. Can we have it by Monday or Tuesday?'

'I have a full-time job, and I'm not an expert- I'll do my best.'

'Splendid!' Tom actually clapped his hands together and rubbed them together. 'I love it when a plan comes together.'

With that, Sidney was done: 'See you Saturday, then. Bye.' 

Now, it was Saturday, and Charlotte was returning to the house with three happily exhausted children who were only _slightly _covered in ice cream and sand. 

Henry was so tired that he could barely hold up his bucket and spade, so Charlotte let him climb up for a piggyback as Jenny and Alicia walked ahead.

'Do you think Gigi will stay in my room?' Jenny asked. 'She might. I'll ask her. I think that would be so much fun.'

'Well,' Charlotte considered this. 'I think Gigi might want her own space. After all, she's been sharing a room with girls at school all term. But maybe she'll have a sleepover or two with you. You can ask her.'

Jenny picked up her pace. It was unlikely that Sidney and Gigi had arrived all the way from Cheltenham yet, but Charlotte didn't want to burst the girl's excitement.

As it was, the Aston was parked up in front of Trafalgar House when they arrived. Jenny sprinted up the street the moment she saw it and almost slammed into Sidney as he came out the front door.

He neatly caught her and stopped them both falling. He planted a kiss on her head. 'Eager to see me, Jenny Wren?'

'Not you, Uncle _ Silly! _Where's Gigi?'

'Kitchen. And no, my feelings aren't hurt...'

Jenny calmed down a moment. 'Sorry, Uncle Sidney.'

He smiled. 'I understand. Go inside and say hello. She's missed you too.'

Charlotte approached slowly, partly from dread and partly from how heavy Henry had become after falling asleep approximately ten seconds after climbing up.

Sidney stared a moment, then reached out to pluck Henry from her back. 'I'll take him, Heywood. He's getting big.'

'Thank you. Alicia, get out of the road!'

Alicia Parker was indeed in the middle of the road for reasons passing understanding. Charlotte, now free of Henry, leapt out to catch her before any passing car should knock her down. 

'Sorry, Charlotte. There was a frog-'

'That might be true, but you need to be careful.''

'Sorry. Uncle Sidney!' Alicia grinned up at him, her hero-worship shining out of her face.

'At least someone's pleased to see me,' he grumbled, not without humour. 'Come on in, Leesh, and say hello to Gigi. She's missed you all.'

'Didn't think you'd get here so soon.'

'I picked her up early,' he said, tacitly agreeing to keep their conversation light - boring even - and polite. 'And avoided London. Probably quicker from Gloucestershire to here than from London.'

'That's London for you.'

'Indeed.'

Inside the house, Jenny's shrieks of laughter reverberated. Charlotte followed Alicia into the kitchen.

There stood one of the prettiest young ladies Charlotte had ever seen. Georgiana Lambe was a tall, willowy young woman with dark brown skin and a head of immaculate locs. She had an air of absolute confidence about her but still had not quite grown into her long limbs, and her clothes were as on-trend as it was possible to be while not currently walking down a catwalk in London, Paris or New York.

'You must be Charlotte,' she said, a little standoffish perhaps. 'Good to meet you.'

Charlotte reminded herself that she was a 25-year-old grown-up and Georgiana was only 17 and was being brought up by Sidney Parker, so she found her brightest smile: 'I'm so happy to meet you at last! How was your last day of term?'

'Short. Sidney showed up at the earliest possible moment, so I missed most of the goodbyes. But I get to see these demons early so...' She started to tickle Jenny again. 'I suppose I don't really mind.'

'You're here for the whole summer?' Charlotte asked.

Gigi rolled her eyes. 'Yeah. Sidney doesn't let me have any _actual _fun.'

'I'm not letting you loose on the streets of London, Georgiana.' Sidney deposited Henry on the sofa and came to join the conversation.

'I'm seventeen-'

'Exactly.'

'It's not like I don't know the place. We lived there-'

'You lived in leafy Richmond.'

'Yeah, and Bedford Place is the ghetto.'

'Perhaps,' Mary cut in behind them all. 'We can all come up for a week or so?'

Georgiana bounced on her heels, seeming much younger for a moment. 'Yes, can we please?'

Sidney sighed. 'Maybe.'

'Leesh!' Gigi pulled Alicia into a hug. 'I missed you, lovely girl.'

'Will you watch Moana with us?'

'Moana again? Maybe... What about... how about Sleeping Beauty?'

'Moana!'

'Princess and the Frog?'

'Moana!'

'Cinderella?'

'Moana!' Alicia laughed raucously at this hilarious joke. 'Moana!'

'Now, are you s_ure_?' Gigi smiled. 'Moana?'

'Yes!'

'All right then. But... I think Mummy will make you clean up first.'

'I certainly will! What a mess you all are. Did you go swimming in all your clothes?'

'No, we dug a hole. The biggest hole _ever! _'

'Sounds very impressive. Did you fill it back in again?'

'Yes.' Alicia looked mournful now. 'Charlotte made us.'

Uncle Sidney reminded her of the reasoning: 'You don't want people falling in and hurting themselves.'

'No...'

Mary frowned and looked between her filthy children and the pile of ingredients on the worktop. 'Sidney, could you get these three in the bath? I'm making dinner.'

'Of course, dear Mary. Come on, small ones.'

Alicia grumbled a little, but Jenny led the way up the stairs. Sidney picked Henry up and started to wake him as they went upstairs to the bathroom, leaving the women of the house together.

'Want some help?' Charlotte asked, nodding towards the food prep Mary was doing.

'No, it's fine. do you want to stay for lunch?'

'Oh no, you should enjoy your time with Georgiana-'

'My name is Gigi. Only_ Sidney _calls me that.'

'Sorry.'

Mary went for a strategic interruption: 'Gigi, did you arrange with the College to send your AS Level results here?'

'Yes, after you reminded me sixteen times.'

'Only because I got the sense the first fifteen times that you weren't really listening.'

'I was not.'

'What are you studying?' Charlotte asked, supposing these would be safe topics.

Gigi sighed. 'Maths, Physics, Chemistry, Russian, French, and English Lit.'

'Wow. That's a _lot_.' Charlotte was quietly impressed and concerned for Gigi - most students took three or four A-Levels and found that crushing enough.

'And I'm taking Italian next year as well. French and Italian are easy enough - I've been speaking both since I can remember. The British are so easily impressed by anyone who can speak anything other than English. Do you speak anything else?'

'My French is good enough to be understood in France and bad enough that it gets laughed at. Do you like your school?'

Gigi stared at her a moment, perhaps assessing whether Charlotte was actually interested or not. 'Well enough. Better than the other options.'

'You didn't really have any other options,' Mary said, then explained to Charlotte: 'Gigi's mother went to Cheltenham.'

Gigi let out a loud huff that had all the energetic contempt for the world that only a teenager could manage before immediately launching into a rant: 'And it was my father's_ dying wish _that I follow in her footsteps. Mind you, it was also his dying wish that Sidney of all people was named my guardian so I think it's fair to say the man wasn't in his right mind.'

Charlotte dearly wanted to ask more but did not - apparently even seemingly-innocuous questions about school led to this.

'How did you find the amount of work for so many subjects?' she asked.

'It's all right. I mean, it's not like I have much of a life, thanks to Sidney.'

'He's just trying to look after you, Gigi,' Mary remarked, throwing her now-quartered carrots into the roasting pan. 'He's doing his best.'

'His best means I can't do half the things I want to do! Why can't I go to London? I'm seventeen, not _seven_!'

Mary said nothing but patted Gigi's arm as she moved to start on her next task. 'We'll work on him.'

Charlotte declined to eat late lunch with the family, reasoning to herself that she was surplus to requirements now Gigi was present.

'Did you get the cinema proposal done?' 

She was in the process of opening the front door to leave when Sidney called out to her. He was leaning against the archway into the living room.

'Today's task. I have a full-time job that demands my time during the week.'

'Don't forget to include overall visitor numbers from the last two years and anything you can get from other similar businesses.'

She'd already thought of these things, but didn't bother saying so. 'Yep.'

'Good. Milo runs a hedge fund - he's not easy to impress.'

'I didn't think you wanted this anyway.'

'I'm apathetic about the details, but as someone pointed out to me, I have a responsibility to the town to help its prosperity where I nay.'

'Right.'

'And of course, prosperity is good for me financially.'

'What with owning half the town.'

'Exactly. Everything can be reduced to pounds, shilling and pence. Didn't you know?'

'No. Too naïve for that.' With that parting remark, she swung the door open, stepped through and let it close behind her.

*

Sidney watched Charlotte walk out of Trafalgar House with a sinking sense that he had not made things better.

He'd known two nanoseconds after opening his mouth that he'd overreacted to Charlotte last Friday. He'd _known _and was yet powerless to stop himself. He spent the following week burying himself in work and trying not to conjure strategy after scheme about how to apologise without making things worse.

She did go _on_ sometimes, but it really wasn't her fault that she kept pushing his berserk button because she didn't really know where it was.

Charlotte Heywood wasn't to know that almost the last thing he'd talked with Eliza about was "how to find a way to get the cinema reopened" before she went to Vegas and came back married to a tech billionaire. There was no way to tell her without sounding like a self-pitying wanker either.

He didn't believe in God, gods, the universe or anything notion of a higher power. Still, when Milo Shaw started talking to him about his passion for old cinemas at an event at Westminster Hall, Sidney began to wonder.

'Sidney, do you want more peas?' Mary held the bowl out to him.

'No, thank you.' He poked at the remnant of his lunch with his fork. 'So, Georgiana, what are you hoping to achieve this summer?'

'Achieve? Are you three hundred years old? I'm hoping to _achieve _fun.'

'You should carve out some time to study-'

'God, Sidney!'

Mary shot her a look. 'Gigi.'

'Sorry. But really, it's the summer holidays, and Sidney wants me to study? I don't even have this year's exam results back yet.'

He sighed. There was no getting through to Georgiana. She was a sheltered young woman who had no idea how harsh the world actually was; no sense of power imbalances, or how hard it was for non-white women to be taken seriously and get ahead, even with the fortune held in trust for her.

'Fine,' he conceded. 'Absolutely no schoolwork until exam results are back.'

'Yes!'

'But! Once we have your results, we'll create a study plan based on those-'

'_Mudak_,' she mumbled.

Sidney had to bite back a smile: '_Vy zabyli, chto ya govoryu po-russki_?'

Gigi sighed heartily and slouched in her seat. 'I hate you.'

'I will live with it somehow.'

Mary threw_ him_ a look now. It really wasn't fair on him to be responsible for a teenage girl. What had Richie Lambe been _thinking_? OK, so he had literally no actual family left, and his late wife's family only had an alcoholic librarian aunt somewhere in Liverpool... but _Sidney? _ It had been an educational eighteen months, for sure. 

He wanted to do better but had no idea how. What did teenage girls actually like to do?

'Have a look at the Sanditon Hall website,' he said almost out of nowhere. 'Whatever you'd like to treat yourself to, I'll book it for you.'

She regarded him with some suspicion. 'Really?'

'Yeah. You've... you worked really hard this year. Your reports are almost uniformly excellent. You... deserve it.' He meant it most sincerely, but it still sounded stinting, and he had no idea why.

Gigi actually blushed a little. 'Thank you. Hang on, almost uniformly?'

'It was noted you don't always work well with others. I can relate.'

'I can. Just not some of those racist little _bitches_.'

'Gigi!' Mary hissed. 'Do not swear in front of innocent ears.'

Jenny giggled; Henry and Alicia were oblivious. 

'Sorry, but they are.'

'What have they done or said? I will speak to the school immediately-'

'Don't be daft. They're not stupid enough to be obvious about it. It's in the way things are said and. It's in comments about my hair, or how they talk about _urban knife crime _when it's in the news. Or how they swoon over Idris Elba compared to any of the Chrises. It's in how I'm never invited to certain things by certain people even if everyone white _is _invited.'

'I'm sorry.'

'It's what it is. I only have one more year of this but- nonsense, and then I'm _gone_.' She paused. 'Except I'll head to Oxford or Cambridge or something and start all over again. That's the thing about white supremacy: you never quite get away from it.'

Sidney could not disagree with her take but was still surprised by how much it was already affecting her. He'd assumed that her wealth would be enough for most other girls to want to be her friend.

After all, even in their rarefied circles, 17-year-old multi-millionaires were pretty rare.

'So Mary, what's Charlotte like?' Gigi had moved on. 'She seemed nice enough.'

'Oh, she's really lovely. I think you'll get along really well once you get to know her. She's very smart and funny, like you. Maybe you should come to the pub quiz with us on Friday.'

'I can't imagine I'll be allowed into a_ pub_.'

Sidney scoffed. 'You can go to the pub when you're accompanied by responsible adults like Mary. What you_ can't_ do is go to nightclubs in London with other teenage girls who have no idea how the world works.'

Gigi rolled her eyes at him again but otherwise did not object further.

Alicia tugged on Gigi's sleeve. 'Gigi? Can we watch Moana when we've finished eating?'

Gigi laughed. 'Of course, sweetheart. Again.'

*


	14. Like a Pear Cider That's Made With 100% Pears

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I got stuck on this one... not convinced by it but it is done and then we can all move the heck on.
> 
> I really appreciate all the comments so far!

The weather turned nasty that evening and dumped so much rainwater on the south coast that people started making jokes about summer being over already.

As the Parker family's Sunday plans had been focused entirely on 'going to play on the beach', this meteorological state of affairs sent their plans awry.

With some desperation, Mary Parker turned to Auntie Google to find something - anything! - happening in a 30-mile radius that her children would find an acceptable alternative.

Thus, the whole family found themselves two towns over, strapping on rented roller skates to skate around in a circle for a few hours.

The whole family that is, except Sidney Parker, who drew the line of family solidarity somewhere short of roller skating. Instead, he kept himself at Sanditon Hall to eat artisan bread, swim in the pool, and otherwise take himself out of the world for a while.

If he felt a little guilty about abandoning them to their fate, it did not last long once he was in the pool swimming lap after lap after lap. Sidney swam at a punishing pace for an hour or more until his shoulders screamed and lungs burned.

After a quick shower, he took himself into the spa to let the steam room soothe his aching muscles. The cobalt and blue mosaic glinted in the dim light and steam appropriately filled the little room. It was so steam-filled that it took him a moment to discern a figure in the corner, head leant against the wall and legs outstretched on the bench.

Oh _fuck_. What was the etiquette for running into your nemesis in a steam room? For indeed, Charlotte Heywood was right there, eyes shut and breathing steady. 

Discretion was surely the better part of valour, so he acted as if he hadn't seen her at all, and sat down as far away as possible. He got comfortable, closed his eyes and started to breathe deeply to take advantage of the steam.

The pollution of London that surely clung to his bronchioles seemed to shift and dislodge with every inhale and exhale. His heart slowed to a steady, calm thump-thump. Sweat and steam mingled on his skin; his muscles began to warm and loosen. He rolled his ankles experimentally and let the clicks ease, then moved onto his calves and hamstrings.

Sidney took a long deep breath in, held it and then released it as slowly as he could manage. Finally, he felt equal to facing the world again.

Somewhere nearby, the steam room door opened and closed. It took him a moment to remember Charlotte. He looked up and found she was gone. Thank God for that.

He knew he'd gone too far the other day, but really, she did spew some nonsense sometimes. Blaming _him_ for Sanditon's failures was like blaming the string quartet on the Titanic for the sinking. Wasn't it?

Just because he was a _Parker_ didn't mean he had magical powers of resort regeneration. He couldn't _make_ people come and spend money in town. Best he could do was curb Tom's more outrageous impulse ideas, wasn't it?

He rather felt there _was _more he could do, but he didn't want to. He didn't _like _Sanditon, so why should he give even the merest fuck about its future?

Anyway, he hadn't thought the cinema was a good idea. He remembered it as a clapped-out out pit of a place that couldn't compete with a multiplex if it tried. That final screening of_ Armageddon_ had been a sad anticlimax. Nobody even knew it was the final screening until the bank locked the doors.

If he'd known, he might not have tipped an entire tub of sweet popcorn over Kevin Lynch's head. Well.. he'd almost certainly have done that and he'd do it again. 

But listening to Charlotte and then to Milo, he'd started to see something else. A quirky, charming little picture palace showing the kinds of films few other houses showed. The kind of place people might actually travel to. Film festivals themed to pull entire subcultures down to Sanditon for a few days.

He rather liked the idea of showing a season of Carole Lombard films, if only because his granny had liked her so much and his memories of those screwball comedies sent warmth through his chest that even a room full of steam couldn't replicate.

Sidney stopped himself - he was starting to sound too much like Tom. Wanting to do it didn't make it commercially viable and even if Milo Shaw_ did _have literal millions to spend without a care, he couldn't ethically bleed the man dry over a half-formed daydream.

The steam grew oppressive then, and he knew it was time to leave. A quick shower later and he was dressed and ready to treat himself to a herbal tea on the terrace for all his exertions. The rain had stopped a little while ago leaving the air fresh, if everything else a little damp.

And there, of course, was Charlotte bloody Heywood, sat at_ his_ favourite table with her feet up on the wall.

'The ubiquitous Miss Heywood,' he said, clutching his tea tray so hard his knuckles were going white.'

She looked at him over a pair of cats-eyes sunglasses. 'The mercurial Sidney Parker.'

'May I sit?' he asked.

'There's any number of free tables.'

'Here. May I sit _here_?'

'Why?' She wasn't being sarcastic, which gave him pause. Why would she not think-

Ah. Last week. He'd done such a good job of not thinking about it that he'd half-forgotten. 'I owe you an apology.'

'Do you?'

Fuckity bollocks. There were several possible ways forward here, but he had a strong sense that the only truly effective one was to be direct. 

'Yes. I was rude.'

Charlotte just _looked _at him, her steady chocolate gaze patient, unyielding and unmerciful.

'That is,' he cleared his throat. 'I was unkind. I might make excuses regarding the amount of alcohol poured down my throat but... I was unkind. Forgive me.'

'Is that a question?'

'Pardon?'

'Forgive me. Is that a question or a command?'

This felt like a trick question. 'A request. Of course.'

'I don't like people shouting at me,' she said. 'If you have a problem with me, give it to me straight.'

He replied without thinking: 'Like a pear cider that's made with 100% pears?'

Charlotte snorted. 'Oh, just sit down and stop making the place look messy.'

'Thank you.' He put his tray down with some care.

'Anyone who quotes Stewart Lee at will can't be _all _bad.'

He poured his tea - a richly purple berry concoction that smelled like a branch of Lush. 'I am sorry.'

'Yeah, well.'

'You bring out the worst in me,' he blurted and immediately regretted it. To his surprise, she laughed.

'That much seems clear. I don't mean to.' She sighed and pulled her legs down from their stretch. 'You're hardly the first person to accuse me of being an unbearable snot or other four-letter words. But... I'm also sorry for whatever it was I said that made you so bloody angry. I didn't mean to.'

'I know that.' He cleared his throat a moment. 'Really, I do. I was vile to you.'

'Yeah, pretty much.'

'You're not going to make this easy for me, are you?'

'Why should I?'

'Fair enough.'

'But really, what's the point? We might have people in common but we're not _friends_. As long as we can be polite when called upon, you don't have to waste time listening to me and I don't have to navigate whatever attitude you're serving at any given time.'

Charlotte made this statement with a certain amount of kind practicality - there was no bitterness there - and it left Sidney feeling oddly... _hollow_.

'We aren't friends,' he repeated. 'You're quite right of course.'

'Yeah... and it's OK. We're not in Year One anymore and we don't have to be friends with everyone.'

'That's true.' He sipped his tea again, inadvertently mirroring her as she did the same. 'But...'

'But?'

'You are clearly very close to my family. It would make things easier if we could get along.'

'What do you think I've been _trying _to do, Parker? I've tried to be nice to you! I've _tried_. And every time I think we're getting somewhere, you turn on a bloody sixpence. It's really tiring, you know.'

'I do know. Forgive me.'

'Stop fucking apologising. If it doesn't accompany a change in actions, it's all just words, and I've got enough of those of my own. As you've pointed out. If you're going to hold me in contempt, you have that right. Just leave me alone while you do.'

'I don't hold you in contempt.'

'No?'

'No! Quite the opposite. I think you're one of the most interesting people I've met in a long time. I accept my first impressions were... wrong.'

She gazed at him, one eyebrow raised, prompting him to continue.

'I_ am _sorry. Again. You don't have to believe me, but I have been trying. I just... I have history with this town and sometimes it flares up in ways even I'm not expecting. Like being accused of being responsible for its ruination.'

'That's not what I said, and I was trying to make a _joke_. I'm sorry that it wasn't funny.'

'I do feel responsible,' he admitted, staring into the dregs of his fuschia drink. 'Always have. My family's legacy here- it weighs upon a person.'

'I suppose it would.'

'What does Sanditon mean to you, Heywood?'

'Well... it's pretty and charming. It's a place where people look out for each other. It's got such potential for success. It... it's home.'

'it's a place of failure for me,' he admitted. 'It's "_why can't you be more like your brother Tom? He's so personable and engaging and friendly! What good ideas he always has!" _and where I wasn't good enough for Eliza and where I returned without her, to face the scorn and contempt - that's a good word for it, yes - of everyone we knew. It's a town dying on its arse because of circumstances out of my control but I still should've been able to do something about it. You think I didn't feel it every single time a business closed? That I didn't hear my dad talking about our ancestors and all their achievements like I was meant to do something about it, even where he himself failed?'

Sidney took a deep breath - he was not used to speechifying in the way Charlotte seemed to do so effortlessly. Had she mastered Sinatra-style circular breathing?

'Legacies are pretty heavy burdens.'

'Tell me about it. I can't control the fact that people want to go on holiday to places with guaranteed sunshine and they can fly to Tenerife for the price of a train ticket to get here. I can't control the shift to online shopping and the death of the high street. You think if I had a real choice, Sanditon would look like it does?'

'No.'

'No.' He sighed. 'I want to love Sanditon. Really, I do. But I'm not Tom. I can't see unlimited potential where it doesn't exist.'

'It's not unlimited, but there is potential.'

He shrugged.

'Look around. This place is proof that if you build it, they will come.'

'And this is where your newness to Sanditon shows. This isn't the first time Lady A tried to redevelop some part of the estate. Things don't _last_ here.'

'Except the town itself. Except the Parkers. Those seem to last pretty well.'

He sighed. 'Yeah. Well.'

'Let's talk about something else. We must have some other common interest.'

'Jungle canyon rope bridges?'

'Exactly! Do you want more tea?'

He found himself saying that yes, he did, and being relieved when their conversation moved to Stewart Lee and from there into a ramble of subjects from 15th-century art to 20th-century politics, the history of the monarchy, popular science and half a dozen other topics.

Two hours passed.

'Now,' she said as the waitress came to clear their latest teapots away. 'Perhaps we can be proper friends after all.'

'Perhaps we can, Heywood. Can I give you a lift back to town?'

'I was going to walk, so don't trouble-'

'I'm going for Sunday lunch. No trouble.'

'Then walk with me and save the planet a little?'

'One five minute journey won't make much of a difference.'

'No, but it's like I've been trying to say - it doesn't have to be_ much _of a difference to still be a difference. You don't have to solve all the problems all at once to have solved something.'

'Where do you get all this wisdom from?'

'Internet memes.'

'Ah.'

'And therapy. Lots of therapy. Come on, then. Before Henry grabs all the mashed potato.'

'Takes after his dad. We used to have full pitched battles over carbohydrates back in the day.'

'I can picture that all too well, somehow.'

The walk from Sanditon Hall along the cliffs to town took no more than fifteen minutes but there was such a profound shift between Parker and Heywood that it is fair to say they started the walk as potential friends and ended it as actual friends with a depth that even their friendlier interactions previously had lacked.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The reference to 'give it to me straight like a pear cider that's made from 100% pears' is from an amazing Stewart Lee stand-up comedy routine: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZBuh6LOfcOg
> 
> Out of context, it might seem a bit bewildering, but Stew is an amazing comedian. That the two of them both rate him highly enough to quote and recognise his work is a good thing.
> 
> This from the man who gave us 'jungle canyon rope bridges' and described Game of Thrones beautifully as 'Peter Stringfellow's Lord of the Rings'.


	15. There's a Ledge Beyond The Edge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the super comments so far!
> 
> Here's something more Georgiana focused. It hasn't escaped my notice that I haven't given much page time to the only person of colour in the whole flipping story - it's a matter of timing more than anything. Here she is and I hope I've done her some justice. More to come.

Monday morning was not going well. Charlotte's computer had been running slower than treacle on a cold day thanks to some huge image files, and then the internet had given up entirely - which turned out to be a fault affecting most of the town, so she couldn't even run to the Coffee Cabin.

So, with a quick message to her boss, she gave up and got on her bike - literally. Her plan was vague: perhaps to cycle to Eastbourne or beyond.

The summer was definitely _here_: the day was hot even before midday and the whole coast was bathed in bright, golden light. The sea sparkled and glimmered in blue and silver all the way out to the horizon.

How anyone could _not _love this, she had no idea. Her legs burned a little as she cycled upwards along the cliffs and her lungs ached to keep up the effort.

And then, Charlotte stopped so abruptly that she almost smashed into her own handlebars.

A little distance ahead, someone was stood at the edge of the cliff. Too close, she knew, for anything casual or laidback.

Her blood stopped in her veins as if she'd been frozen in carbonite. She scrambled along, dumping her bike as she did.

'Hello,' she called out gently, not wishing to startle them. Oh- it was Georgiana Lambe! Why was she out here all on her own in such a state?

Gigi turned around with the slowness of someone so sad that they haven't the energy to send to their muscles, face streaked with drying tears. 'Oh. It's you. Er... Charlotte?'

'That's right. Hey. Can I help?'

'With what? All is well.' This was presented in such a way that even Gigi did not expect Charlotte to believe her.

'Is it?'

'Of course. Why would I have anything to complain about with _all my money_?'

Charlotte didn't know who Gigi was parroting, but she very much wanted to find them and smash their teeth in. 

'I suspect there's a lot of things.' Charlotte edged a little closer. 'Money isn't everything.'

'No, it isn't...'

'If you want to talk, I'm here and I haven't got anywhere to rush away to.' Charlotte moved again, hoping at least to be in place to grab an arm if needed. 

Gigi did move then, but not to leap off the cliff as Charlotte so feared. Instead, she slumped back to lie on the grass, feet dangling a little. Charlotte sat down beside her, trying to keep a respectable distance from the edge.

'It's my mum's birthday tomorrow,' Gigi said. 'Or it should be, but it isn't, because she's dead.'

'It's still her birthday if you want it to be.'

'Sidney said it was stupid.'

Oh, her temper flared then, but she kept it locked down to avoid flustering Gigi. 'Did he? Well then,_ Sidney's _fucking stupid.'

Gigi actually laughed at that. 'He didn't say that exactly. Just that when I said it was her birthday, he said _well, it would be._'

'That's not the same thing as calling it stupid,' Charlotte suggested gently. 'I don't know Sidney _very_ well but I'm coming to learn that he usually doesn't mean badly by the idiotic way he phrases things. And I've had people say that to me. My best friend died and... I like to celebrate her birthday because it's not half-so-sad as marking her anniversary.'

Gigi sat up. 'Exactly!'

'So, do you have anything planned?'

Gigi shook her head. 'When she was alive, we used to go to Frankie and Benny's for dinner.'

'Why Frankie And Benny's?'

'She liked their milkshakes. And how it was _cheap and cheerful_. She didn't like being rich, I don't think.'

'Yeah?' Charlotte rather felt that many rich people who _didn't like being rich_ had no clue what it was like to be anything else, but it was not the time to say so.

'Yeah. I think that's why she married my dad instead of some posh dude.'

'What were they like, your mum and dad?'

'My mum was lovely. She was always patient with me and let me read the same story over and over again no matter how many times I'd already read it. And she liked to do things for herself. She was independent, you know? She taught herself how to fix cars so she wouldn't get fleeced by mechanics.'

'She sounds great.'

'She was. And my dad was, too. He was clever too, but more in business. He was a self-made man. A properly self-made one, not like those men who say they're self-made but started with £1m from their dad or something. My grandparents came to England in the 1960s with almost nothing. My granddad worked on the buses, you know. But my dad got into grammar school and... he worked so hard and got a job in the City and made a ton of money in the Dot Com boom.'

Charlotte let Gigi speak uninterrupted, about her parents and how they met (New Labour event in 1998) and were married in the Maldives, and how together they built an ethical investment business and had a baby and all was perfect and well until Mrs Lambe's BMW brakes failed during a particularly bad storm.

'I was ten,' Gigi said. 'My dad didn't deal with it well. If it wasn't for Sidney, I think things would've been even worse.'

'What did Sidney do?'

'Oh, nothing much. But my dad saw the potential in him and put all his efforts into helping him. I don't know much about it but I know Sidney was like all those other coked-up City bastards who burn out after a few years. My dad helped him and then when_ he _died, he made Sidney look after me as payback.'

'I cannot imagine it was _payback_, Gigi. Your dad must've seen something in Sidney.'

'What? That he'd push me off to school and ignore me?'

'I don't think that's it, you know.'

'Yeah? And you know us both so well?'

'No, but... trust me when I say I'm experienced with the less pleasant aspects of Sidney Parker and he's really not a bad guy; he's just drawn that way. I think he wants to do the right thing but doesn't always know how.'

'He was so nice when Daddy died. And then he sent me to school and said I wasn't allowed to live with him even in the holidays.'

'You like living with Mary and the family though?'

'Of course! But my own guardian doesn't even want me around!'

'That's not it. You're seventeen, sweetheart. You know what people would say.'

'Well, people would be fucking stupid. It's _Sidney_!'

'You and I know that. But they don't. Whatever Sidney does, I rather think it's because he cares a _lot_, not because he doesn't care at all.'

Gigi's gaze narrowed. 'How well do you know him?'

'A little bit.'

'Do you _like_ him?'

'He's a dick sometimes, but he's generally OK-'

'No, I mean _like_ him, like him.'

'Oh. No! Don't be ridiculous.'

'Why is it ridiculous? He's rich and handsome. He's even quite charismatic in his own pseudo-Byronic way. Why _wouldn't_ you?'

'Because! Because he's a _dick_.'

'Right,' Gigi quirked an eyebrow. 'And no woman has ever had a crush on a rich, handsome pseudo-Byronic dickhead.'

Gigi paused and now rolled her eyes. 'Hang on, I just described _Byron_. Byron himself was a pseudo-Byronic dickhead.'

Charlotte sighed. 'That'll be the English Literature A-Level, then?'

Gigi grinned. 'You like Sidney! _Sidney_?' She laughed her arse off for some time, not even giving Charlotte the chance to mount her denials. The relatively small age gap between them yawned wide for a moment as Gigi demonstrated that, for all her intellect and maturity, she was still a seventeen-year-old girl.

'No, I really don't. He's entertaining enough but... I hadn't even thought about it.'

'Really?'

'Honestly.'

'So, what's your damage then?'

'Oh, where to begin!' Charlotte joked.

'I just spilt all my tea. Your turn. I'm not rushing off anywhere either.'

While Gigi Lambe was in some ways a little naive and innocent compared to many other seventeen-year-olds, there were ways in which she was much more mature.

Charlotte sighed and began to tell her story. It was only fair, even if she phrased some things more gently in deference to Gigi's tender years.

A fair amount of time later, they returned to Sanditon: Gigi riding Charlotte's bike slowly enough that Charlotte herself could keep pace.

At Trafalgar House, Gigi paused before opening the door. 'I'm glad you found me, Charlotte.'

'So am I!'

'I wasn't going to do anything really awful, I swear. But... I am glad you found me. You're really lovely, just like Jenny, Alicia and Henry said.'

'That's sweet of them. And so are you, just like they said.'

Gigi hugged Charlotte then. 'I'm glad you're my friend. You are my friend, aren't you? I mean, sorry- I shouldn't leap to concl-'

'I am, Gigi. I promise. Let's go and see if Mary wants us to take the terrible trio off her hands for a while.'

Gigi grinned. 'Sounds like a plan! There's time for the beach, right?'

'Always.'

*


	16. Slide 94

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the super comments, as ever. There's nothing quite like seeing that email notification!
> 
> Hopefully, this chapter brings you enough Sidney. I've also realised a lot of my style can be summed up as 'people sitting drinking beverages talking'. Sorry not sorry.

While Gigi and Charlotte enjoyed the lovely weather down on the coast, Sidney Parker and Gideon Babington were stuck in the third hour of a meeting in a room that was best described as "blank and barely air-conditioned" while Slide 94 of a powerpoint presentation lingered longer on the screen than it should.

Sidney had given up all but the merest pretence of listening. He shouldn't be in the bloody room at all, but the clients had wanted their senior faces front and centre. So, investment banking rock star Sidney Parker and well-connected Babington were sent along as the human sacrifice and despite both having exceptionally good remuneration and benefits packages, both questioned the sanity of their life choices.

They'd been sat down so long that lunch had been delivered and the leftover sandwiches were already dried and curling on the tray. Sidney's right knee was aching from lack of movement and his patience was quickly waning.

MacDougal was _still talking_. He'd been talking for so long that when he started, the Queen looked like Claire Foy. His thick-rimmed Eric Morecambe spectacles glinted in the artificial light even as they slipped down his nose.

Extraordinarily, Sidney thought of Sanditon and wished he was there. Why _wasn't _he? He had the annual leave available, his ward was home for the summer holidays and-

Why wasn't he in fucking Sanditon? Why was he even thinking about Sanditon, for fuck's sake?

His laptop screen lit up with a notification on the corporate instant messenger.

** Gideon Babington (Director, Client Management, London): **Good grief, I wish I was in Sanditon right now.

What? _Babington _was yearning for _fucking Sanditon_? What was wrong with everyone lately?

** Gideon Babington (Director, Client Management, London): **We should go there this weekend. I'm sure Esther will be happy to find us room at the Hall.

This definitely required a response.

** Me**: _Esther_? Happy to do what now? What aren't you telling me?  
**Gideon Babington (Director, Client Management, London): **Nothing, unfortunately, but in a general sense she's definitely thawing a bit.  
**Me**: That's just sad, old man.  
**Gideon Babington (Director, Client Management, London): **I cannot deny that.

_ Gideon Babington (Director, Client Management, London) is typing... _

** Gideon Babington (Director, Client Management, London): **I am dying over here. Do you think Mac is actually filibustering this meeting? It's the only thing that makes sense.   
**Me: **If anyone can, it's him. 

Sidney tried and didn't quite succeed in stifling a broad yawn, and MacDougal noticed. Fortunately for Sidney, he had cultivated such a reputation that Mac took this not as an insult to be aggrieved at, but as a damning indictment of his presentational style.

'Why don't we take a break?' MacDougal said.

Before the words were even entirely out of his mouth, the smokers in the room were up on their feet and halfway to the lift.

'Mac,' Sidney said when it was just he, Babington and their client. 'You're killing us here.'

'Well,' Mac pushed his glasses back up his nose. 'Imagine how those greedy, grasping bastards feel.'

Babington slapped the tabletop. 'I bloody knew it! You're an evil genius.'

'I'm more a dastardly megalomaniac but whatever.'

'We need to wrap it up soon though,' Sidney said. 'Babbers and I are off to the coast this afternoon and we want to avoid the traffic.'

Babington wisely said nothing.

Mac looked interested though: 'Oh yeah, where?'

'Sanditon,' Babington said. 'Sidney's hometown. Lovely little place. Very chill.'

'I'll have to check it out.'

Sidney almost choked. Conor MacDougal was a multi-millionaire tech genius and Tom absolutely could _not_ get his hands on him. On the other hand, if it got into the right newspapers that Conor visited places like Sanditon, it would get _buzz_.

Did he want Sanditon to get _buzz_? There was a question...

'Let me know if you're interested,' he found himself saying. 'I'll find you a nice quiet apartment overlooking the sea. Discreet.'

'Great! Well, I reckon I've got twenty more slides-'

'Ten at the most.'

'Fine. And then they'll agree to anything.'

'I think they're already at that stage, Mac.'

Twenty minutes later, they left the building with exactly what they wanted plus ten per cent. An hour or so after that, two of the three were on their way to Sanditon.

*

As it was mid-afternoon on a Wednesday, the traffic was pretty good and the Aston Martin pulled into the Sanditon Hall car park just before four o'clock when the sun was still high, bright and hot.

'Esther said rooms are ready for us,' Babington checked his phone for the thirty-millionth time. 'And she- Hello!'

Esther Denham was at the hotel entrance, looking sharp and brilliant in her perfectly tailored suit. Her lips were even redder than her hair and she almost - _almost - _seemed happy to see them.

'Can't you give a girl _some _warning, Babington? You _owe _me.;

'There is nobody I'm more happy to be indebted to,' he replied with a flourishing bow that nobody would take seriously. 

She sighed. 'Come in. It'll cost you. I had to give you both suites.'

'Excellent!'

Sidney followed behind, giving Babington free rein to take the conversational lead and hang himself with it.

'How long are you here?' Esther asked. 'You didn't say.'

'Until Sunday,' Sidney replied.

'Two weeks,' Babington said.

Esther stopped in her tracks, halfway up a step. 'What?'

'What?' Sidney echoed. Babington didn't take fortnight-long holidays. None of their sort did. You took a fortnight and came back to find all your clients gone. 

'I'll be working from home, so to speak, for a bit. But I needed to get away. What is life if all you do is work? And I'm glad for the suite, so when Auntie Sunderland comes down we'll share and you won't have to scramble for another room.'

'Auntie Sunderland?' Sidney asked as they continued the short journey into the hotel lobby. 'She's coming?'

'She was very interested when I was telling her about it and she fancied a trip to the coast. But she doesn't like Brighton or Bournemouth much these days.'

From Esther's lack of response, she clearly did not yet know that _Auntie Sunderland _was, in fact, the Duchess thereof and Sidney wasn't going to be the one to tell her.

'Well,' he said. 'I'd like to just get into my room and head over to the house and check on Gigi.'

'Gigi?' Esther asked. 'Do you mean Gigi Lambe? She's here.'

'She is?'

'Yes.' Esther looked rather concerned and suspicious for a moment. 'She arrived with a friend earlier and said you'd given permission for them to use your membership at the spa. More specifically, your _account _for treatments. If that's not the case-'

'Yeah, that's right.' Sidney headed off any issues before Esther could leap to conclusions. 'I just didn't know she was here today. I suppose I'll... head down there.'

'You need a full body massage,' Babington said. 'For all that stress.'

'Fuck off, Babbers. I'll call Crowe later, see if he wants to come down.'

'As you like. Now, Esther...'

Sidney, now in possession of a room key, ignored his friend's attempts to woo Esther Denham in favour of stashing his hastily-arranged travel bag in his room. That done, he went directly downstairs to the terrace to drink tea and - at some point - locate Gigi and whatever friend she had with her.

There was something of a relief at the thought of Gigi having a friend with her. She didn't speak about school in tremendous detail and had a habit of focusing more on the negative, of which he knew there was plenty.

The problem, as far as he could see, was that he hadn't the first clue what it was like to be a teenage girl, let alone one who was rendered "different" by her orphan status, her outrageous wealth and to some extent, her skin colour.

He'd hoped the latter would be less of an issue than it apparently was. He would have a quiet word with the principal before the new year began, but he was at a loss about what else could be done.

He _could _challenge all those girls to a fight, but somehow he didn't think it would go down well if a grown man trained in three different fighting styles threw down with children.

Taking out his frustrations on the gym punching bag might help...

He bought a pot of tea - the berry one that smelt like Lush - and took himself onto the terrace. His favourite table was free and he settled in, feet up on the wall as usual. The lake ahead glinted welcomingly - somehow a dip in the lake sounded even more refreshing than the pool - and he took a long deep breath.

London and work and stress started to ebb away. Babington was wrong - he didn't need a massage, he just needed to _be_. He switched his phone onto silent and then, on second thoughts, he turned off mobile data to prevent any emails pinging up until he was good and ready for them.

He was halfway through his tea when a familiar laugh rose up above the general noise of a half-full cafe. Soon enough, Gigi stepped through the French windows, followed by Charlotte Heywood.

'Sidney?' Gigi beamed for a moment before remembering she was supposed to be _cool_. 'What are you doing here?'

'I took some holiday.' He sat up and shifted things around on the table to allow them to put their own drinks - brightly coloured ice concoctions - down. 'I was going to go over to the house to see you but a little bird said you were _here_.'

Gigi grinned. Her skin was clear, glowing and she looked serene indeed. Then, she was panicked a moment before pushing back with a challenge: 'You said I could use the spa.'

'I did indeed. Are you enjoying yourselves?'

Gigi and Charlotte glanced at each other - apparently, they hadn't expected that reaction.

'Yes, it's lovely!' Gigi slid into the seat opposite him, leaving Charlotte to sit beside him. 'We're booked in for a hot stone massage in an hour. Why are you here?'

'I was sitting in a meeting and realised I have a lot of leave to use and as someone once noted, I'm a privileged young man so I decided to take advantage of it.'

'And you're here to... see me?'

'Of course,' he said, and the look of pleased _relief _that spread across Gigi's face for a moment was enough to make him weep for his failings as her guardian. 'So, we already agreed to no schoolwork until after results. So, what are we going to do?'

'How long are you here?' she asked. 

Sidney thought of Babington's plan. 'At least two weeks, although I'll have to work some of the time.'

'Yass!' Gigi all but bounced in her seat. 'I've been looking and there are all kinds of things we can do. Do you like bikes? And we should go to Brighton at least _one _day although that's not very loyal to Sanditon. And can we go to that miniature railway - dorky maybe but I bet it'll be fun and Henry would love it-'

'Take a breath, Gigi,' he replied, chuckling. 'We'll do what we can. But...'

'But?'

'I'm not roller skating.'

'Spoilsport,' Charlotte spoke for the first time, but she looked amused. She leaned in a little. 'Thank you.'

'Since when are you two such great friends?' he asked. 'I fear this combination.'

'So you should,' Charlotte retorted. 'We've been hanging out a bit the last few days. I hope that's OK.'

'Why wouldn't it be?'

'I don't know... and,' Charlotte lowered her voice now. 'I had no idea when Gigi suggested today that we were doing it all on your account. I would not have agreed if I'd known. Or I would've paid for my own-'

'It's all right. Consider it my continuing atonement.'

She rolled her eyes. 'I thought that was resolved-'

'Consider it an apology on account for the next time, then.'

'You think there'll be a next time?'

'Seems inevitable.'

'True. But... thank you for coming down. It means a lot to her, you know.'

Sidney glanced up at Gigi. She was on her phone and not paying him any attention, but she seemed... _happier _than she'd been for a long time. 

'I don't know what I'm doing,' he admitted, sotto voce. 'I'm not her dad.'

'No, you're not. You don't have to be. Just show you care as much as you do.'

'Just not by roller skating.' He sipped his tea. 'Milo was pretty impressed with the cinema proposal, by the way. Has some questions and he wants to come and see it for himself but I think you're going to get your way. As I suspect you always do.'

'Not always, but often enough.'

'If you want a change of career, you've got potential in this sort of thing.'

'I like my job, thank you.'

'I was talking to Tom about creating a single investment organisation for a cohesive, efficient regeneration strategy. There would almost certainly be a role for you in that.'

'Well, when it actually exists, I'll think about it.'

'Is it Sanditon you doubt or me?'

'Neither. _Tom_. I adore that man, but he's a flake and I'll believe it when I see it. He won't want to formalise it, you know. He'll say something about it stifling-'

'The spontaneous, organic development?'

'Yeah.'

'That is what he said. And I replied that all he'd be doing is risking everything he owns. He said he'd think about it.'

Gigi interrupted now, attention back from her phone: 'What has the two of you tete-a-teteing so closely? Something juicy?'

'The corporate structure required for the Sanditon regeneration project,' Charlotte replied.

Gigi rolled her eyes. 'God, that sounds so boring.'

'It's not as boring as it sounds,' Charlotte assured her.

'Yeah, right. Wake me when you're finished.' She returned to her phone. 

'When is Gigi's dad's birthday?' Charlotte asked him.

'Why?'

'Well, it was her mother's birthday the other-'

'Fuck! I meant to... I forgot. Fucking hell. Was she OK?'

'Not really, but she will be. I just wanted to know when her dad's birthday is so I can think of something to do then.'

'26th April. She's usually in school then. Last time, I went up and took her out for dinner. You don't need to worry.'

'I'm not worried, I just want to... I'm just enough older than her to feel like I want to look after her. I know that's your job, but-'

'I won't object. I can't relate to things you can. Room enough for both of us, right?'

'Right. Very wise, Mr Parker.'

'Just... will you _please_ help me prove that her going to London with her mates and no grown-ups is a bad idea that I'll never agree to?'

Charlotte laughed. 'Nothing you could do or say is going to convince her of that.'

'Ugh.'

'Just do what my dad did and absolutely point blank refuse and stick to your guns.'

'Did it work?'

'Nope.'

'So, what-'

'When we _did _go up to London on the train when we were meant to be going to Tunbridge... we at least knew that we would be in so much fucking trouble that we behaved ourselves scrupulously. Mostly. Lucy bought a bottle of Lambrini and between her and three of the others they finished it before we even reached London.'

'Messy.'

'Only a bit. Funny, too.'

'Did your dad find out?'

'Of course.'

'What did he say?'

'Nothing. Discretion is sometimes the better part of valour.'

'True, but - and I mean this kindly - you didn't have the money and connections to get into the nightclubs that are full of cocaine and arseholes.'

'Funny how those two things go together so often.'

'Isn't it just. I mean it: can you imagine the reaction if Gigi and her mates showed up at Boujis or whatever club that set are patronising these days? All those bastards with money plying young girls with champagne and whatever in an attempt to get them into bed. And Gigi's money makes her a target. None of her friends has quite so much or will come into it all as quickly as her.'

'At 21?'

'Her trust is hers when she's 25. She gets a lump sum early if she gets married. Not my idea.'

'What are you talking about now?' Gigi asked. 'Beige?'

'Yes, Gigi,' Charlotte replied. 'We're talking about _beige_.'

'Your heads are so close together it looks like you're snogging, by the way.'

'Gigi!'

'Just thought you should know.' She snickered and went back to her phone again. 'Sidney, Arabella wants to know if you're still single.'

'Arabella? Your schoolfriend?'

'Yep.'

'What possible relevance is it to her?'

'Well, she has a sister-'

'No, no and no. Stop trying to set me up. And for God's sake, I cannot have a repeat of last year.'

'Last year?' Charlotte asked.

Sidney's face burned a moment and he did not reply.

'Sidney caused a bit of a stir when he picked me up the first time.'

'It's not my fault-'

'Sidney, you see, did not know what a fuss he would cause by arriving dressed ready for the gym.'

'Ah.'

'It was not that bad.'

'You were the only man under thirty and you were in a vest and shorts. Honestly Charlotte, he drove the girls _mad_.'

'I did not. And it was not a _vest_.'

'It was a sleeveless t-shirt.'

'It was a hot day!'

'Even I will admit that he looked very... _cute_. And since then, he always shows up in a suit and tie. Which isn't much better, because he's still _cuter _than any of the other dads.

'This is not a conversation I wish to have-'

'Oh well, never mind.' Gigi waved her phone in dismissal of his concerns. 'When my friends found out he isn't married or anything, they've spent all their time since trying to find a suitable-'

'Age-appropriate, I beg of you!'

'Match for him. They're not to be denied on this, you know. Arabella's sister is twenty-five. That's close enough, surely?'

'Her age is _not_ the problem. I don't want your friends trying to interfere in my life!'

'Hardly interfering to suggest a date! She works in the City, apparently. She's a _lawyer_.'

'Gigi.' He drained the last of his tea. 'Stop it.'

'Unless you're already seeing someone and didn't tell me?'

'No.'

'So why not?'

'Because I am not interested in having _children _set me up on dates!'

'Seventeen, not seven!'

'Doesn't always seem like it.'

'I'll tell Arabella you're a grumpy bastard. Although I'm not sure that'll put them off much. They do like their pseudo-Byronic dickheads.'

Charlotte was drinking her iced... _thing _and choked a moment.

'Are you all right?' Gigi asked, blinking her wide eyes at Charlotte.

Sidney was desperate for a subject change. 'When is your next treatment?'

'Not soon enough,' Charlotte muttered. 

'In a bit. I could do with another one of these.' Gigi waved her empty cup. 'Charlotte, want another one?'

'I'm fine thanks.'

'Sid, you want more of that girly tea?'

'Tea should not be gendered... and yes, please.'

'I'll go!' Gigi bounced up out of her seat and into the cafe.

'I don't understand seventeen-year-olds,' he admitted.

'She means well, I'm sure. Did you really show up like that?'

'Yeah.' He reddened again. 'The Principal suggested I not... "repeat the spectacle". I told you, I haven't a fucking clue what I'm doing. I still don't know why Richie chose me. Other than lack of options.'

'He had faith in you, I suspect. And... you do know that most parents spend most of their time fucking up.'

'Yeah, but-'

'The difference is that they get a lot of their most obvious fuck-ups out of the way before the kid can remember. You got handed an almost fully-formed human.'

'Maybe.'

'Not maybe. It's the plot to at least half a dozen films.'

'Yeah? Maybe I should watch some of them.'

'Oh, they're universally mediocre but... whether through your influence or not, she's a really good human being, so you're doing all right.'

'Maybe.'

Charlotte rolled her eyes and lightly kicked his foot. 'Not maybe.'

'Hey, Charlotte!' Gigi returned from the cafe empty-handed. 'Maybe you should come with us when Sidney drops me at school in September.'

'Why?'

'To put off all those big sisters. And divorced mothers.'

'Have you been watching the Hallmark channel again?' Sidney asked.

'Nope.' Gigi popped the "p" hard. 'Just trolling. As you were.'

'You didn't get drinks?'

'Being brought to us. So, when are we going on a good long bike ride? Charlotte loves cycling too. You should come with us.'

'Well, I have to work-'

'Saturday? Excellent! I'll borrow Mary's bike. Unless you'll let me dip into my _ ginormous fortune _ for one measly little bike, Sidney?'

He gritted his teeth. 'If you're only going to ride it once, Mary's bike will do. I'll make sure it's set up for you. And yes, Saturday. If you want. I'll see if Babington wants to come. And Crowe, if he's down. If you don't mind.'

'Crowe's hilarious and Babington is nice. All right. Can we go up to Thorpe Park? Maybe next week? Can I invite Arabella? She's in Tunbridge Wells.'

'Arabella, yes. Her sister, no.'

'Spoilsport. Tuesday?'

Sidney pinched the bridge of his nose. 'Fine.'

'Yes! You're the _best_! When you're not being the worst, I mean.'

'Damned with faint praise.'

The rest of the conversation unfolded in this manner until the ladies of the group were called for their next treatment. Sidney was then able to take another deep breath and found that he was significantly less stressed than when the conversation began.

That was a surprise.


	17. I Want To Ride My Bicycle, I Want To Ride My Bike

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's do this.
> 
> Thanks for all the super comments so far! I'm really glad you're enjoying this one - I know modern AU is not to everyone's tastes.

The next few days passed very pleasantly for Sidney Parker. He and Gigi travelled around in search of the daftest, cheesiest and silliest summer holiday things to do.

It occurred to him at one point that she was trying to wring as much time from her childhood as she possibly could, having had a large chunk ripped away from her. So, if she occasionally wanted to do things that were perhaps for a demographic a little younger than her own, he smiled, nodded and went along with it with good humour.

There was no roller skating, and for that he was grateful. They went to crazy golf, to go-karting, to bowling when it rained on Friday. They went to Brighton where they ate fish and chips from newspaper, had palm readings and spent a tenner's worth of tuppences on the arcade's coin pusher machines. Gigi won herself a cheap plastic minion keyring which she presented that evening to Henry - with great aplomb and ceremony.

On Saturday, they met up with Arthur, Babington, newly-arrived Crowe and Charlotte on Sanditon promenade.

'Mary made us a load of sandwiches,' Gigi held up her rucksack like a trophy. 'And some lemonade. Sidney has that.'

'Are we ready to go, then?' Crowe asked. He was a skinny fellow who looked malnourished most of the time, but his lycra cycling gear exposed a fair amount of sinewy muscle. 'If we want to reach Dungeness by lunchtime.'

'_Do_ we?' Babington asked. 'That's a long way.'

'Fifty kilometres there, fifty back. Nice round hundred,' Crowe dismissed him. 'Come on then.'

Arthur laughed, a little nervously, and stared down at his own bike. 'We'll see how we go, old chap. We're not all yellow jerseys like you.'

The ride began then, and as they passed Sanditon Hall, Esther Denham appeared on a bike of her own.

'Wasn't expecting you,' Sidney said as she fell in time with him. 'But you're welcome.'

'Babington mentioned it and I needed to get away from Aunt Annabel for a while.'

'Why?'

'She found out the Duchess of Sunderland arrives on Sunday and won't shut up.'

'Ah.' So, Esther knew now.

'He should've _said_,' she muttered. 'I'd have been prepared.'

'He wants you to like him in his own right,' he said and immediately regretted it - too much information.

'I do like him in his own right,' she snapped back and clearly also regretted such sharing. 'Anyway, it's annoying.'

They cycled up the coast, resting only when someone shouted for mercy. Photographs were taken of the landscape, of wacky selfies and of the wasps that swarmed at the can of Coke that Babington dared leave unattended for a minute. 

After forty kilometres - 25 _miles_, Babington corrected with the terse outrage of an old school Englishman - they gave up. Crowe was unhappy at this turn, but did not object to their stopping at a quaint little pub that had almost managed to hide its corporate ownership under its thatched roof, horse brasses and meat pies.

The group sat in the pub garden overlooking the sea. Their bikes were piled up against the fence and the cyclists themselves were sweaty, hot and agreeably genial.

Arthur insisted on buying the first round of drinks which was very kind until everyone realised they were all on the soft drinks as they had to cycle back yet. They ordered hearty pub meals to replace the energy they'd expended on the way there and settled down to wait.

As pub gardens went, this was a particularly pretty one, with a riot of colour in the landscaping that rolled down towards the sea.

'I think I died,' Arthur said as he drained his orange juice. 'At least ten miles ago.'

'I think you did,' Crowe replied, stretching his lycra-clad calves against the table leg.

If Gigi minded being the only person under 18 in the group, it didn't show. 'You're all so bloody old.'

Her companions might have argued this point, but they were all too tired. 

The food arrived quickly as pub service went and the group were quiet as they devoured their scran. 

'I'm going to spend a full _hour _in the steam room after this,' Babington said through a mouthful of sweet potato fries and halloumi burger. 'I've earned it.'

'Not yet, you haven't,' Esther retorted, stealing a chip from his plate. 'All the way home yet.'

'Worst comes to worst, I'll call an Uber.'

'An Uber?' Arthur looked both shocked and amused. 'Good luck with that.'

'You have taxi firms out in the sticks, no?'

Arthur guffawed. 'You Londoners haven't a clue. You'll be waiting at least thirty minutes for a taxi and it'll probably cost forty quid to get home.'

'Well, you'll be one of us soon enough,' said Sidney, tucking into the last of his steak and kidney pie. 'And then you'll learn about this thing called _ civilisation _.'

Babington and Crowe cheered; the others mostly booed and threw napkins and discarded chips at him.

*

Fifty minutes into the ride homewards, Sidney Parker took a corner too fast and came tumbling off his bike into a bramble patch.

'Well,' he said out loud as his friends caught up and didn't bother hiding their amusement. 'That was really fucking stupid.'

He stood up and found that while he was fine, but for a rip in his shorts, some scratches and a bruised ego, the front wheel of his bike was out of alignment and basically unrideable.

True to the bonds of friendship and brotherhood, the rest of the group continued on at speed while he was obliged to walk his bike along and wonder if it was worth trying to find a taxi home.

After a few minutes and two more corners walked, he found Charlotte Heywood leaning against her bike waiting for him.

He brushed a sweaty lock of hair off his forehead. 'You don't have to wait.'

'It's all right. Gigi asked me to make sure you're all right.'

'Gigi did?'

'Yep.' Charlotte wheeled her bike alongside him for a minute before getting back onto it but riding at his walking pace. 'She thinks she's being subtle.'

'Subtle?'

'Arabella's not the only one trying to get you a date.'

'She-' He tripped over his bike. '_You_?'

Charlotte rolled her eyes, as she so often did in his company. 'Yeah, maybe sound _less _incredulous next time.'

'No, I mean- I didn't mean it like that. Just... it was unexpected. Sorry.'

'You can use me, if you like-'

'Use you?'

'On Tuesday. To deflect the sister. As a- what did you call it? A host body?'

'Sorry, that was a stupid thing to say.'

'It's OK. Really, I know you meant kindly by it. But if you don't like the older sister, you can use me as a human shield.'

'I won't like the older sister.'

'How do you know?'

'Just do.'

'Are you a psychic as well as a-' Charlotte paused '... quote "_leading light in ethical investment practices and decolonising the international banking scene"_, end quote. I think that's what it said.'

'Been reading up on me, Heywood?'

'Mary was reading it the other day.'

'But _you _remembered it.' He was trying to bait her and to his disappointment, she did not bite.

'It was surprising. Good surprising, though.'

'Didn't expect me to be in possession of a fully-functioning soul?'

'Not that. Well, not exactly. I didn't know you were such a big deal. That's all. Here, you're... just Sidney. I mean that in a nice way.'

'I know.' And he did. 'I like being _just Sidney_. That was a terrible puff piece - I wish the bank said no to the writer but they wanted some good publicity. I do my best work when nobody knows who I am.'

'I bet that's not true. Don't we all need to know that there are people trying to make the world a better place?'

'All I'm doing is continuing Richie Lambe's work. It's nothing that hasn't been done before.'

'For such a cocky bastard, you really are quite modest.'

'I contain multitudes. So do you.'

'I think a contradictory nature is fundamental to the human condition,' she replied. 'But... maybe we're just more obvious examples.'

'I think you might be right.' Sidney hissed as he landed awkwardly on his ankle.

'What's the matter?'

'I twisted my ankle a bit when I fell, I think. Just aching a bit.'

'Do you want to stop a minute?'

'Nah, it's all right.'

Charlotte let him continue until they reached a wooden bench on the path overlooking the sea. 'Sit down.'

'It's really-'

'Just sit down, will you.' 

He obeyed this time and winced again as he took the weight off his ankle. Charlotte let her bike settle on the grass and knelt down to look at the offending joint.

'Well, I don't think it's a sprain,' she said. 'And it's not broken, I don't think. But you should probably get it checked out.'

'You're a medical expert now too?'

'Just my Girl Guides First Aid badge. I edited a fitness textbook last year that covered sprains and whatnot, but I don't remember a lot of it. So... shall we just sit for a bit? Maybe call a taxi. Or we could ask one of your pals to pick you up once they're back.'

'I'll be all right walking.'

'Maybe, but why risk it?'

'Because I must prove how tough and manly I am?'

'That ship has sailed. You are evidently the most metro of metrosexuals.'

'I prefer the term dandy highwayman, thank you.'

'Noted.' She sat down next to him and for a little while they were both content to look out at the sparkling, shimmering sea. A container ship moved slowly across the afternoon horizon.

'I'm going to enjoy that steam room when I get back,' Sidney said once the silence felt too oppressive.

'I hope your ankle's better for Tuesday. Lots of walking.'

'Yeah, maybe I'll get a cane.'

'Like a proper dandy?'

'Yeah, why not? I think I'd suit a cane. And a top hat.'

'If you say so.'

'You don't agree?'

Her scrutiny was deep and lasted a moment longer than was comfortable. 'With a decent tailor, you might look the part. No reason not to.'

'See now, I _ have _ a great tailor-'

'Course you do.'

'And now I need to ask him to make something along those lines. Where do you think I could get a top hat-'

'Amazon or eBay.'

'Haha. I can see it now, me strolling through Leadenhall Market in my frock coat and hat, twirling my cane.'

'You're weird, Parker.'

He rested back on the bench and turned to face her. 'Not many people get to see how weird I am, you know. Mostly they just see my boring banker alter ego.'

'I'm flattered.'

'You're weird too.'

'Yeah, but as you have pointed out on more than one occasion, I don't bother with an alter ego.'

'Well, you're braver than me.'

I'm not that brave. Just mouthy, like you said.'

'I don't think I called you _mouthy_.'

'It was implied.'

'Probably. Sorry. Again.'

'I know. I'm sorry for accusing you of being a total wanker... when it is clear to me that you are probably only about one-third wanker.'

He laughed a little and stretched his long legs out. 'Thanks.'

'Is it awkward?'

'What, my ankle-'

'No, sorry. I meant... Gigi getting me to stay behind.'

'Well, you didn't _have _to.'

'No, but we shouldn't have left you on your own-'

'But _you _didn't have to stay.'

'True.'

'It's not awkward. She can do what she likes. It doesn't change anything.'

'Yeah. Of course.'

'Gigi can't make us feel a certain way.'

'No, exactly.'

'But I don't want you to feel uncomfortable. If you do, I'll speak to her.'

'It's OK. Let her learn that she can't manipulate people's feelings. She's not Pixar!'

That brought a smile to his face then. 'Thank God. I'm still not recovered from Toy Story 3. Or Up.'

'Yeah. That whole opening just killed me. The idea that Carl and Ellie had their whole lives together... that they got to be _happy _and- yeah.'

'The bit that got me,' he said. 'Well, two. The moment you realise their baby didn't make it. And then when he's all alone again, left to be his naturally arseholey self. I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy.'

'He's not an arsehole,' Charlotte countered. 'Just... he likes the world to be ordered in the right way and hasn't much patience when it doesn't live up to his standards. His disappointed hopes make him bitter, not nasty.'

'Maybe.'

'Not maybe. He's a good person. He's just at his _best_ with someone who appreciates him for who he _is_. Like Ellie. And then, Russell.'

'I suppose.'

'I'm right, Parker. I'm always right.'

'You are. Except when you are so profoundly _wrong_.'

'Yeah, that never happens.'

'You admitted the other day that you like _Don't Tell The Bride,_ so we're going to have to disagree on that point.'

'Right, now hang on one second. I did _not _say I liked it, just that having seen a bit with my sister, I could see how it could be a compelling watch.'

'Yeah, right.'

They were quiet again for a while until Charlotte's phone buzzed.

'Arthur wants to know how far behind we are.'

'We don't know where they are.'

'Fair point. I'll let them know about your ankle-'

'It's fine.'

'It is not fine!'

'It really is. Look!' He stood up and walked around a little. His gait was uneven and he grimaced on occasion but he could walk. 'We'll walk as far as the bus stop and then get the 4 back to Sanditon.'

'You're joking, right?'

'No.'

'It's Saturday. The 4 only runs three times.'

'Really? It used to be half-hourly.'

'Bus subsidy was cut. We would have-' she checked the time - 'four hours to wait.'

'Fuck.'

'How's that London Bubble looking right now?'

'Warm and toasty. But not as warm and toasty as my Aston Martin would be.'

'It's hard being you, eh? With just the one tailor and no top hat.'

'Yet.'

'Naturally.'

'Let's walk a bit. The further I get, the easier it is to retrieve us.'

'You're sure?'

'Sure and certain.'

They walked - slowly and carefully - along the path without saying much. Eventually, Sidney slowed all the way down.

'Shall I call Arthur now?'

'No.'

'Sidney-'

'I'm all right!'

'You're not all right!'

'It's not that bad.'

'Maybe but we still have _miles _to go and you're just making it worse. Don't be a fucking baby!'

'I'm not being a baby!'

'You're infuriating, you really are.'

'So are you!'

Instead of escalating the argument even more, they simultaneously burst into noisy, gleeful laughter.

'Come on, then,' Charlotte said. 'At least... maybe sit on my bike and wheel yourself along on your good foot.'

This proved to be the kind of stupid idea that was at least less bad than the other options.

Several miles ahead, the path was interrupted by a small car park and there waited Arthur in his bashed up green 2007 Ford Fiesta. 

'Hello!'

'Did you call him?' Sidney's eyes narrowed hard at Charlotte. 

'No.'

'We felt bad about leaving you behind,' Arthur said, taking the bikes and securing them to the rack. 'So soon as I got back, I drove up. Did you hurt yourself?'

The trip back by car to the Hall was a matter of some easy minutes. As promised, Sidney took himself straight to the steam room while the others congregated on the terrace to drink cold beer or cocktails.

Gigi scowled as she drank a bright pink mocktail. 'I really could-'

'Not losing my licence for you, kid,' Esther interrupted. 'Sorry not sorry. Hey Charlotte! What will you have?'

'Oh, nothing. I'll be cycling back soon. But thanks.'

'A mocktail then, like lovely Gigi?'

'Yeah, thanks. That looks nice, that one.'

Charlotte was soon hooked up with a sickly sweet mocktail. 'Diabetes in a glass?'

'Nice, isn't it?' Gigi grinned. 'How was your trip back?'

'Slow.'

'How sad for you.'

'Stop it, Gigi. It's not kind.'

'I can't wait for Tuesday!'

'You're not subtle, kid.'

'No, I'm not. But look at those two,' Gigi nodded towards Esther and Babington. 'They were awkward all morning but in the afternoon when they only had the other to speak to, they properly thawed out.'

'Weren't you and Arthur there too? And Crowe?'

'Yeah, but Crowe was cycling ahead, and we had important matters to discuss.' Gigi grinned. 'Look upon my works, ye mighty and tremble!'

'Yeah, totally trembling here.'

Yet, for all her remarks to the contrary, Charlotte was struck by disappointment when Sidney rejoined them and sat not with her and Gigi but at the other end of the table with Babington and Crowe.

That was unexpected. Bugger.


	18. Chertsey's Finest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the super comments so far - really appreciated as always!
> 
> I wasn't going to write much or post today but this happened and I figured I might as well get it out of the way. Now, I'd better leave Starbucks before I hit Hour Four.
> 
> Last time I went to Thorpe Park was even longer ago than Sidney Parker so any errors are mine. Let me know if there's owt glaring you notice.
> 
> Also: I mean no harm to any Jemimas in the world - one of my oldest friends in the world is a Jemima - but it is a name that fits the character here.

Charlotte spent Sunday chilling the heck out and wondering what the fuck was going on in her own head.

Since when did she want _Sidney Parker's _attention? She'd spent the rest of Saturday afternoon trying not to look over and had ended up making an excuse to get home earlier than intended just to extricate herself from what was feeling like an awkward situation.

It felt too much like the last time she'd had a crush. She wasn't here for that. She didn't have time for it and good grief, the _mess _that would ensue if she got involved with her friends' brother.

As if he was remotely interested in someone like her anyway. They were barely friends - it was surely the novelty of being friends with a handsome, charming fellow like Sidney.

And he _was _handsome. She could quite happily acknowledge that basic truth without it being a thing.

Just because Gigi thought she liked Sidney didn't make it _true_, anyway...

She worked through Monday like a dervish whirling and then on Tuesday morning, took herself to Trafalgar House very early - they were intending to arrive by opening time at ten.

Tom and Mary were still wrangling the trio into their theme park clothes while Gigi sat waiting impatiently for the Aston to rumble up outside.

Once all were present and ready to leave, there was some question about the vehicle in which Charlotte would travel - the Tom Parker 7-seater or the Sidney Parker Aston Martin Rapide - until Gigi pulled all rank and Charlotte into the Aston.

It was a couple of hours up to Chertsey and the theme park, but at long last, they were at the gates. 

'I'll get your ticket, Charlotte!' Tom declared. She tried to object but there was no argument to be had so she allowed it and assumed that a certain amount of childcare would be traded. 

Indeed, Henry had glommed onto her as soon as they arrived, chattering about the rides and things they would do and see during the day. This was no bad thing, she thought.

'Arabella!' Gigi squealed and sprinted at a newly arrived girl.

Arabella was the kind of young woman found filed under 'English Rose'. She was shorter than Gigi by several inches and where Gigi was long and willowy, Arabella was stockier, like so many of the upper-class women Charlotte had known in her time. She had a lovely, open smile full of big white teeth and a laugh that would gladden even the hardest heart. She might look like a Sloane Ranger in general but her fashion was more aligned with her age than her class - a BTS t-shirt and jeans, and a huge scrunchie holding her blonde hair up.

Arabella laughed as Gigi lifted her off her feet. 'Gigi!'

Sidney leaned against the fence, smirking. 'You'd think it was years since they'd seen each other, not a week.'

'Isn't it more like 10 days?' Charlotte asked. 'Those three days make all the difference.'

Henry was growing bored with waiting and tugged at Sidney's sleeve with his free hand. Sidney relented immediately and pulled him up into a piggy-back. Henry didn't want to let go of Charlotte's hand but allowed it when he discovered the superior view of the park from Sidney's back.

A tall woman followed after Arabella. This was presumably the sister. She was, like Arabella, of the upper-class genre of humans who somehow seemed to look the horses they so adored. 

'Gigi, you remember Jemima?'

'Yeah, hello! Hey, Bell, come meet Charlotte and Sidney!'

Gigi all-but-dragged Arabella over to them. 'This is Arabella! Arabella, you remember Sidney?'

She blushed furiously and could not meet Sidney's eyes. 'Yeah. Hello.'

'And this is Charlotte! She's the best. Charlotte, this is Arabella.'

'Hey. Gigi's talked about you incessantly, so it's lovely to meet you.'

Arabella waved a hand at her sister. 'This is Jemima.'

Jemima looked at Charlotte and apparently found her wanting. 'Charmed.'

'Hello.'

And then, Jemima's gaze _raked _up and down Sidney so shamelessly that Charlotte felt him shudder even though several fat inches of air separated them. 'You must be _ Sidney _.'

'I must be.' He bobbed down so Henry could see the two newcomers. 'And this is Henry.'

'Hi, Henry!' Arabella offered him a fist-bump, which he returned.

'Your son?' Jemima asked, a frown almost imperceptibly forming.

'Nephew.'

Jemima's appraising gaze intensified. 'How lovely.'

More introductions were made between the sisters and the rest of the Parkers. With Henry safe with Sidney, Jenny and Alicia claimed one of Charlotte's arms each- 

And with that, they were ready to go in.

It became apparent almost immediately that the entire group would not be happy if they remained together all day. The teenagers and some of the grown-ups wanted thrill rides that the smallest of them were thoroughly unsuited to - in both size and experience.

After a while, they began to fracture into smaller groups. Gigi and Arabella asked for and were granted the freedom to go off together on the promise they would answer their phones and return to meet the others in a couple of hours.

'Charlotte, come with us!'

'No!' Henry and Alicia both grabbed onto her. 

'Later, perhaps?'

'Yeah, all right then.'

Charlotte spent her Thorpe Park morning with the children. They went on the smaller rides, with Charlotte encouraging them to be brave at the top of the giant slide or keeping a tight grip on Henry on the river rapids.

She hardly noticed whether Sidney was around or not until she realised that he had been there the whole time to hold Alicia's hand or help Henry down from his over-excited mania.

'Lunchtime, then?' Mary suggested after some time when the sun was strong and high in the sky. 'I think some of us need to get out of the sun.'

This was true - Henry was getting grumpy and his nose was turning a little red despite his mother's sunscreen attentions.

They ate lunch - mass-produced, overpriced pizza with waxy cheese and significantly more oil than should be in a tanker, let alone on a pizza - and took a breath.

'Can we have Charlotte and Sidney now?' Gigi asked.

The children started to object, but Mary was ready for them: 'We are going to spend some time together as a family unit and let our favourite grown-ups have some time to go on all the big and scary rides.'

'Will you tell us what they're like later?' Alicia asked.

'Of course,' Sidney grinned. 'I just hope I'm not sick.'

'Urrrrgh!' Alicia flinched dramatically, nearly knocking over her paper cup of Coke. Sidney caught it and moved it aside.

'We need some quiet time, I think,' Mary said, looking at Henry as he scrabbled around on his chair. 'We'll meet you later.'

With that done, Charlotte followed Gigi and Arabella as they rushed through the park to their chosen next destination. Sidney followed behind, engaged in conversation with Jemima that Charlotte couldn't hear and didn't care to.

The queue at Nemesis Inferno was long enough that they settled in to wait. Gigi and Arabella kept up a steady stream of chatter that Charlotte was occasionally invited to take part in, while Sidney and Jemima continued to talk - they had some mutual friends in the City, it transpired.

Charlotte, therefore, waited, feeling rather like a fifth wheel. Their wait was a mercifully brief 25 minutes that sometimes felt like an hour or three.

As they moved to embark, Sidney's voice was quite unexpectedly directly against her ear. 'Got anything in your pockets, Heywood?'

'Don't be daft, Parker. Women don't get to have _pockets_!' Still, she checked the tiny pockets on her jeans - empty. 

She followed the lad in the Thorpe Park t-shirt's directions and found herself sat between Gigi and Sidney, her feet dangling.

'Never mind my pockets,' she said once the safety bars were down, 'I should've checked my shoelaces.'

'Is now the time to remember that I haven't been on a rollercoaster in about fifteen years?' he muttered.

'Courage, Camille.'

'Fuck off.'

The ride moved off with a cheer from its occupants. Up and up and up then down and around and upside down and back to front and feet freely swinging and upside down and stomach-dropping and brain smashing and-

Back, safe and sound. Brakes on. Safety harnesses up. Feet back on solid ground, even if the legs were a bit wobbly.

'Oh, we have _got _to do that again!' Gigi grinned, bobbing up and down on the balls of her feet.

'Yeah, you do that,' Arabella said. 'I'll wait for you. Nutter.'

'How are you?' Charlotte asked Sidney as they left the ride. 'Queasy?'

'Of course not.' He looked a _little _green around the gills. 'I'd forgotten what that felt like.'

'Good?'

He considered this a moment and then allowed a grin to spread across his face. 'Fucking awesome. What's next?'

The rest of the afternoon passed in a whirl of rides, the frustration of waiting, and general hijinks. They got such a soaking on Tidal Wave that Gigi actually bought a new t-shirt from the gift shop and changed into it. 

'Break time,' Sidney declared as he tried to wring water out of the hem of his own t-shirt.

'Aw, Sidneee-'

'I am fucking _old _and _tired _and I am going to sit the fuck down and drink some fucking coffee,' he said, not without some fond humour. 'Go and be VSCO girls for a bit or something.'

Gigi and Arabella were alternately horrified and delighted by this remark and bounced away to embrace their Gen Z-ness away from the stick-in-the-mud Millennials.

'Coffee, Heywood?'

'God, yeah.'

'Jemima?'

'Sounds good.'

Being the fifth wheel while queueing had been mostly fine; being the third now felt incredibly awkward. Charlotte was keenly aware that Jemima was not a fan of theme parks and had almost certainly come along in order to meet and assess Sidney. She also hadn't failed to note that Gigi had pulled back from any joking about what she had excruciatingly called _Sidlotte_ in a Snapchat message. 

Sidney bought coffee and they sat in a perfectly-adequate theme park cafe, letting the sun dry their clothes and hair. She sipped at hers and let Sidney and Jemima carry the conversation on the themes of City law and banking.

'This must be awfully dull for you,' Jemima said after some time.

Charlotte had been daydreaming. 'What? Oh, not dull. I just don't have any skin in the game. Thank fuck,' she added with some grim satisfaction.

'And what _do _you do?' Jemima asked like she was HM Queen.

'Book editor,' Sidney answered for her. Ordinarily, this would be annoying but she let it slide.

Jemima was visibly surprised by this like she was expecting "Tesco shelf-stacker" - as if there was anything wrong with such a necessary role. 'How interesting.'

'It is.' Charlotte sipped her coffee. 'I edited a law textbook earlier this year. Fascinating topic. So much to it.'

'Indeed.'

'You specialise in property law, do you?'

'Yes. It's so interesting.'

'I found defamation law the most interesting,' Charlotte said. 'And the stuff that's really _ancient_, you know? Where you can see it develop over centuries - if not millennia - like habeas corpus, you know?'

'Yes. As I was saying to Timothy - you know Timothy, Sidney - life would be so much easier with a proper, formal written Constitution.'

Charlotte again sat back and let Jemima lead the conversation. It didn't matter to her. At one point Sidney caught her eye and gave her the universally recognised "all right?" double-eyebrow raise. She nodded, whether she meant it or not.

Her mind drifted again until she heard him say her name.

'Well, Charlotte knows all about that. She's part of the Sanditon regeneration.'

'Oh?' If Jemima had intended to pour a pint of contempt into that single sound, achievement unlocked.

What the fuck had Charlotte done to earn that from a stranger? 'Yeah. A bit.'

'She's practically half-running it alongside my brother. He's the creative genius, Charlotte is the actual brains that stops it all falling apart.'

Her heart leapt up into her throat, less from the words than the warm respect with which he infused the remark. How far they had come since that first pub quiz.

'You're really overstating-'

'I'm not, though. I've seen the paperwork and I _know _it's not Tom's doing. Oh!' Sidney startled. 'Fuck me, I forgot.'

'What?'

'Milo replied.'

'Yeah?'

'Are you free on Thursday? He wants to come and visit the site.'

'You don't need me for that.'

'Course we do, Charlotte. If it's left to me, Milo will at best be mildly put off. You're the one who _cares_.'

'All right then.'

He tapped a quick message into his phone and started to stand up. 'Sorted. Now, are we going on any more rides or what?'

'Yeah, cause we want to do that having recently drunk coffee.'

He took his seat again. 'Good point. I'll see where the Parker Crew are.'

'They are such delightful little children,' Jemima said, leaving Charlotte in no doubt that Jemima did _not _think them especially delightful.

'I love them,' Charlotte replied with all sincerity. 'But they are a bit full-on.'

'We should give Tom and Mary a bit of a break,' Sidney said absent-mindedly while he sent a message to them.

'I'll take them,' Charlotte said. 'You lot can go on the Saw ride or whatever it was you were talking about before.'

'That's not fair on you-'

'I spend plenty of time with the Three Amigos as a quartet. It's all good.'

He looked like he might object further but did not. In due course, the Parker Crew arrived in a racket of sugar-consumption and tales of their adventures so far. Alicia took a breath to speak and was still going several minutes later.

'Are you sure?' Tom asked when Charlotte offered to take them all for a while.'

'Of course. Go and have some fun. I mean, you've both not seen half as much of Sidney as I have this week-' She stopped. 'Let me rephrase that.'

They laughed uproariously at that and after another couple of rounds of "are you sure", headed off towards Saw. 

'Charlotte, can we go on the teacups again?' Alicia was already pulling on her sleeve. 

'Wait one second, lovely. Henry, Jenny, do you want to go on the teacups again?'

'I want to go on the train again,' Jenny said. She seemed a little off, mood-wise. 'I'm bored of the baby rides.'

In the end, a compromise was found and the two girls were sent into the queue for a ride Henry was too small for, while he and Charlotte waited on a nearby bench.

'Where's Uncle Siddy?' Henry asked, playing with a couple of his favourite toys (A small Twilight Sparkle figure and a summertime Olaf). 'Is that other women his girlfriend?'

He pronounced this as _gewl-fren, _which Charlotte found absolutely heart-softeningly charming.

'That's Gigi's friend's sister. We just met her today.'

'Oh, OK. Woooo-' He sent Twilight Sparkle flying across the bench and the poor little Alicorn was headed towards a bin. 

With reflexes she would later consider miraculous, Charlotte's hand snatched Twilight back from certain doom.

'Phew!' Henry said. 'That was brilliant!'

'Be a bit more careful, sweetheart.'

'All right, Charlotte. Sorry, Charlotte.'

'You don't have to be sorry, just careful. I don't want you to lose her. Now, what's going on with Twilight and Olaf?'

'Olaf was captured by the evil queen and Twilight has to rescue him. And the evil queen is really evil and has set lots of traps...'

By the time Jenny and Alicia returned, Henry had still not allowed Twilight to actually _save _Olaf.

'That was so cool!' Jenny bounced excitedly, just as Gigi had earlier in the day.

'Good! Teacups now?'

By the time they reached the teacup ride, queued, rode and got off again, it was late in the day and quite time enough to meet the rest of the crew again.

Henry was truly tuckered out by this point. Charlotte had him in a piggyback halfway back to their meeting point, at which point he was asleep and she transferred him into her arms. He was getting big and heavy and she was obliged to give their bags to Jenny and Alicia to carry while she took him.

And so, she was red-faced and sweaty with exertion by the time they met the grown-ups.

Sidney grabbed Henry out of her arms and slung him across his chest like he weighed nothing.

'We'd better get the gremlins home,' Mary looked significantly more chill than she had just ninety minutes or so before. 'Thank you Charlotte, really. That was above and beyond.'

'We had fun. I'll come back with you-'

'No, stay and come back with Gigi and Sidney. Have some _fun_, for God's sake!'

'You don't deserve that car journey back,' Tom added. 'They'll be awful until they fall asleep.' He took slumbering Henry from Sidney then.

It was almost four o'clock and they had two more hours to burn. Burn them they did, running from one ride to another. Jemima begged off at one point to take a phone call, leaving the four to continue on.

Sidney was positively gleeful as they bounced onto The Swarm for the second - and if the time was any indication, final - time. His eyes gleamed and his grin turned boyish as they were directed to their places. 

'Having fun, Parker?' she teased as they took their seats on one side of the coaster, Gigi and Arabella on the other side.

'So much fun.' He took a breath. 'It's _weird_. Like the last fifteen years were a shit nightmare and I'm just waking up. Or something.'

'Sounds nice.'

'It is.' He paused. 'Are you? Having fun, I mean.'

'Yeah.'

'You didn't have to take the trio on all by yourself.'

'We had fun. It's not a _ chore _ to hang out with them, you know.' She sat back to let the bars come down

'I do know that. But... you don't have to do it all on your own.'

'Yeah.'

'You don't like asking for help.'

'Not really. But I didn't need help, so it's really all good.'

The ride jolted into action. She moved to hold the bars at chest height, which brought her arm into contact with his. He glanced over a moment but said nothing. Their feet dangled in the air again as the ride moved up and up and up and then around and up and down and along and around, shudder, swoosh, woah and scream and shout and-

Brakes to stop. Jolt. Bars up. 

Charlotte's legs were jelly and she could barely stand. Sidney grabbed at her arm to keep her upright.

'All right there, Heywood?'

'Yeah. I think I just hit my limit.' She was _not _going to blush just because some _bloke _touched her. Inexperienced she was; naive and childish she was not.

His brow furrowed with actual concern. 'Come on, then. Let's get you home.'

'I'm fine!' She took a deep breath and he released her without needing to be asked. 'I mean, thank you, but I'm OK.'

'Ask for help, Heywood.'

'When I need it, Parker.'

'That. Was. AWESOME!' Gigi was still bouncing with all the energy a teenager could possess, although next to her, Arabella was starting to flag a little. 'Go again?'

On cue, a tannoy announcement reminded them that the park was closing in fifteen minutes.

'Come on.' Sidney's entire demeanour shifted back to his more usual self. 'Let's go. I don't want to fight all the other traffic leaving the park.'

If Gigi wanted to argue, she did not, and then suddenly yawned, like a switch had flicked _off_ in her head. They walked - slow, heavy steps - back to the park entrance, where Gigi extracted an agreement from Sidney and Jemima that Arabella could visit Sanditon for the upcoming weekend.

The farewell between the grown-ups was a little stilted, lacking any invitations to follow-up their acquaintance any time soon.

The Aston did get stuck in some traffic, earning weary grumbles from Sidney.

'Want me to drive some of the way home if you're tired?' Charlotte asked, feeling a little guilty at being comfortably curled up on the passenger seat with her shoes discarded in the footwell while he had to stay alert.

'There is no way on God's green earth that _anyone _drives this car but me.'

'He's very particular about his car,' Gigi said from her position sprawled on the backseat. 'Whatever would Freud say?'

'He'd say "gosh, a lot of my theories have been debunked by modern psychology",' Sidney retorted. 'I'm fine.'

'If only you could... I dunno... ask for help.'

'Touché, Heywood.'

'What did you think of Jemima?' Gigi asked.

'She was perfectly nice, I suppose.'

'And you, Charlotte?'

'She seemed nice. But she didn't talk to me much.'

'No? That's not _nice_.'

'I don't expect everyone to want to be my friend, G. It's really fine.'

Gigi's phone pinged. 'Arabella says she had a great time and says that Jemima really liked spending time with you, Sidney.'

'How nice.' He yawned again and turned onto the motorway, where he took the Aston to a comfortable 65mph.

'Did you like her, Sidney?'

'I said, she was nice.'

'But did you like her? Like, _snoggably_ like her?'

'Gigi, really-'

'Just asking!'

'Not talking about snogging with you, Georgiana.' he revved the engine again to overtake a Prius in the slow lane; the owner thereof scowled and flicked him the middle finger. 'So change the subject.'

'But-'

'Fine, no I don't want to snog your friend's sister. Fucking hell, who even am I anymore?'

Charlotte looked over and saw his hands were tight on the steering wheel and his expression thunderously hard. 'Don't tease him, Gigi.'

'Fine. I'll tell Arabella something less harsh than "Sidney thinks your sister is a cow".'

'I don't think that!'

'It was implied.'

'It was not; you chose to _infer _it.'

'God, you two are such geeks,' Charlotte cut in.

'And you aren't, Little Miss I Find The History of Law Fascinating?' he shot back, humour returning. 

'True.'

'Anyway,' Gigi interrupted now. 'I'll tell Arabella that you're not interested.'

'Why does anything even have to be said?' he asked. 'Can't you just leave it alone?'

'God, you're so English! Why not just be direct?'

'Do what you're going to do, Georgiana. Like always.'

'I already have. And- Oh!'

'What?'

Gigi just laughed. 'Nothing.'

'What?'

'Nothing.'

'Georgiana.'

'OK. She said... well, Jemima didn't think you were interested so it's fine.'

'See?'

Charlotte looked behind and found Gigi smirking as she frantically tapped out a reply. There was more to it, she was sure.

The drive home was long and they stopped to get a coffee in Tunbridge Wells, lingering in the shop until the owner finally kicked them out - there was apparently a lot to say in dissecting the day.

Finally, back in Sanditon, Sidney parked outside Trafalgar House and they all clambered out. Gigi ran directly inside to charge her phone and continue her dialogue with Arabella via WhatsApp.

Sidney and Charlotte lingered, a little awkwardly. 

'Thanks,' he said.

'What for?'

'That was a really good day.'

'Yeah, it was.'

He shifted on his feet and it struck her that she'd never seen him so ill-at-ease before, even during his rupturing tempers. 

'See you tomorrow?' she asked. 'I'm coming over to the Hall for spin at seven.'

He exhaled and looked out across to the water. 'Yeah, if you want.'

'Cool. See you tomorrow.'

'Need an escort home, milady?'

She laughed. 'Nah, I think I can make it. Are _you_ going to be all right? You look half-dead, old man.'

'I'll hang out here for a while. Nap with Henry maybe.' He grinned.

It was, reader, in this moment that Charlotte Heywood finally faced the truth and accepted that she had a full-blown crush on Sidney Parker. The grin was one she'd seen before, if rarely. It was the very best of the man: a little cocky, mostly self-deprecating and good-humoured, and transformed him from a darkly pseudo-Byronic dickhead into something much more... _ lovely_.

Fuck.

'See you tomorrow,' she managed.

'Sweet dreams, Heywood.'

'Back atcha, Parker.' She smiled and saluted sarcastically, feeling very shy and very young, and walked down towards Waterloo Terrace as fast as she could, her heart beating hard against her ribcage.

_Fuck_.

*


	19. Hey, You Guys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So glad you liked the last part - so much that I did this just now... written in a bit of a rush but I hope you like it :)

In the event, Charlotte and Sidney missed each other on Wednesday morning. Emails from her boss meant Charlotte cancelled her plans for Spin class in favour of getting stuck into crisis management; Sidney slept through his alarm and didn't wake until after ten o'clock, by which time Babington and Crowe were already up and about and ready to mock him over his choice to spend the day somewhere as uncultured as a theme park.

** From: **TParker@Sanditon.com   
**To: **charlotte.heywood@SmartiesPublishing.co.uk; James@stringerarch.co.uk; Sidney.Parker@SellersMilligan.com  
**Date**: Wednesday, -- July 20--, 10:34  
**Subject: **CINEMA REGENERATION

_ Just had a call from Milo Shaw's office. He's coming at 11 tomorrow! Dress to impress - I don't have to tell you how CRUCIAL this is to the SUCCESS OF SANDITON!! _

_ Come to the office this afternoon - we will put our game plan together!! _

_ T. _

All three recipients' first response to the email was to roll their eyes and remind themselves that Tom_ meant well_.

Then, the reply-all emails began.

** From: **charlotte.heywood@SmartiesPublishing.co.uk;   
**To: **TParker@Sanditon.com; James@stringerarch.co.uk; Sidney.Parker@SellersMilligan.com  
**Date**: Wednesday, -- July 20--, 10:45  
**Subject: ** Re: CINEMA REGENERATION

Hi Tom

Sorry but I'm working today and we're dealing with a bit of a crisis so I can't duck out. Happy to take your lead on this.

Can confirm I will be there at 11am tomorrow.

Thanks,

Charlotte.

*

** From: **James@stringerarch.co.uk;   
**To: **TParker@Sanditon.com; Sidney.Parker@SellersMilligan.com charlotte.heywood@SmartiesPublishing.co.uk;   
**Date**: Wednesday, -- July 20--, 10:46  
**Subject: ** Re: CINEMA REGENERATION

_ Onsite in Edinburgh. Back in Sanditon by 10:30am tomorrow all being well. _

_ If you need me after 7pm tonight, leave a message on mobile as will be travelling and offline. _

_ Regards, _

_ James _

*

** From: **Sidney.Parker@SellersMilligan.com  
** To: **TParker@Sanditon.com;  
**Date**: Wednesday, -- July 20--, 10:49  
**Subject: ** Re: CINEMA REGENERATION

_ Some notice would be nice. Is this even necessary? _

_ And try to remember we don't actually work for you, bruv. _

*

** From: **TParker@Sanditon.com  
** To: **charlotte.heywood@SmartiesPublishing.co.uk; James@stringerarch.co.uk; Sidney.Parker@SellersMilligan.com  
**Date**: Wednesday, -- July 20--, 10:52  
**Subject: **Re: CINEMA REGENERATION

_ New plan: Charlotte and Sidney come to dinner this eve _

_ James: will call you later. _

*

** From: **James@stringerarch.co.uk   
**To: **TParker@Sanditon.com   
**Date**: Wednesday, -- July 20--, 10:53  
**Subject: **Re: CINEMA REGENERATION

_ Anytime 18:00-19:00 is fine. Am offline from 19:00. _

_ * _

** From: **Sidney.Parker@SellersMilligan.com  
**To: **TParker@Sanditon.com;  
**Date**: Wednesday, -- July 20--, 10:49  
**Subject: ** Re: CINEMA REGENERATION

_ Don't try and tempt me with food. _

_ What time? _

_ * _

By mid-afternoon, Charlotte was _done_. The metaphorical fires had been doused and were now merely smoking out her brain. Needing to stretch her legs after being stuck in front of a computer from 7 am with no more than bathroom breaks, she declared herself finished at four and took herself off to the beach to get some of the summer sunshine.

The afternoon was noisy with children on summer holidays and she hadn't the patience for that so she meandered along, away from the beach itself and along to the wilder parts of the coast. 

There was a favourite quiet spot of hers no more than ten minutes walk away: a pleasant little cove. Its little pebble beach was nothing compared to Sanditon Strand so it was rarely populated. 

She settled down on a rock and although she took her book out of her bag, she didn't start to read. She'd had more than enough of words already.

Instead, her mind turned inevitably to the matter of Sidney Parker. She'd fallen asleep easily enough, exhausted by the day, but not before her mind went over and over and over all the interactions they had, searching for evidence pertaining to his thoughts, feelings and opinions about her, or anything at all.

They were friends now. That was nice. He'd been good-humoured all day; they had lightly bickered a couple of times as any pair of friends might. 

There was nothing to indicate that his feelings moved in the same direction as hers did. Or at least, as they now did.

It was very inconvenient and as she'd not felt like this for a very long time, she hardly even knew where to start with it.

Repression was always a good start. Ignoring the feelings until they died a death, that was a good one. 

Acknowledging that nothing would happen, nothing could happen and if it did, it would end badly... that worked.

And yet... her mind now also catalogued every single interaction they'd ever had. She'd shared the details of her life more easily with him than anyone except Mary. He hadn't laughed or mocked her for the things that were closest to her heart or most sensitive.

He _had _offered to be a host body upon hearing she'd never been kissed, but she knew banter when she heard it. She'd been _mates _with far too many young men to know the difference between a boy that liked you and a boy that _liked _you. 

Her eyelids grew heavy as the stress of the day settled down. The crisis was over - and should never have fucking happened to begin with and good fucking grief someone really was going to need to be spoken to - and now she could relax, she did.

Her phone rang. Loud and shrill like an old-fashioned telephone-

Hang on. Her ringtone was "Shake It Off' by Taylor Swift. Had someone dropped a phone somewhere nearby?

She stood and went seeking the noise. She hadn't noticed before, but there was a small pile of clothing on a rock across the cove and underneath, an iPhone 11 Pro. After a moment, she recognised the carbon black case-

Of course. If God existed, they were a trickster trolling bastard.

She turned around at the sound of swooshing water just in time to see Sidney bloody Parker emerging from the sea like Ursula Andress in _Dr No - _if Miss Andress had been hewn from a slab of marble. He was, at least, wearing swim shorts a step or two above 1980s budgie smugglers. Water ran off him in rivulets that almost hypnotised her.

He froze upon seeing her stood there, holding his phone. 'Charlotte?'

'Hey- Uh- your phone was ringing.'

'Ah. Thank you.'

'Yeah.'

'We keep running into each other, Heywood.'

'It's a small town. I didn't know anyone else came down here.'

'I like the quiet.' He finally started moving towards shore, bringing his abdominal muscles ever closer.

Charlotte really wanted to flee such excruciating awkwardness but her legs weren't cooperating.

There was nothing _wrong_. It was just awkward. And typical. Had her thoughts summoned him or something?

'Isn't there a perfectly good pool at the Hall?' she asked.

He passed close by to grab the small _ Sanditon Hall Hotel & Health Club _towel he brought with him and started drying off, an action she tried not to watch. Instead, she stared out to sea and tried instead not to picture him stood amongst the waves like Poseidon if that god was cast in _Supernatural. _

'I like sea-bathing. Bracing.'

'Ah.'

'My phone?'

'Oh, yeah.' She handed it back.

He frowned. 'Can't I have half an hour's fucking peace?'

'Apparently not. Work?'

'Yeah.'

'I know that feeling. That's why I escaped out here.'

'I see.' He shrugged into his immaculate black t-shirt. 'Recovered from yesterday?'

'Hardly.'

He pulled a pair of loose cargo shorts over his swimsuit. 'Are you coming to dinner this evening?'

'I couldn't say no-'

'Course you could. We don't have to march to the beat of Tom's drum all the time.'

'No, but your friend is coming tomorrow, so...'

'True.'

'I've never done this sort of thing before so it would be nice to know what I'm getting myself into.'

'You have nothing to worry about.'

'Yeah, but-'

'Your proposal document was really good. Even compared to people who do it for a living. I told you, Milo was impressed.'

'That's one thing, but in person-'

'All you have to do is be even half as passionate about it as you were with me. Maybe take a breath or two, but otherwise, exactly like that.' He shoved his trainers on without bothering to put on socks. 'I'm walking back to the Hall. Are you going in that direction?'

She hesitated. The answer could just as easily be yes as no. 'Can do.'

'Want a cup of flouncy tea? My treat.'

'Flouncy tea?'

'What else to call it when their tea is organised by chakras?'

'Ha. Yeah, go on then.'

They started to walk side by side, except when Sidney gave her priority to scramble up from the cove to the path.

'I had a really nice day yesterday,' she said, scrambling for safe topics.

'Yeah, same. I didn't expect to have so much fun. It was a bit like being seventeen again myself.'

'I think Gigi has that effect on people.'

'True. And... I'm sorry if Jemima was rude to you.'

'She wasn't rude. She was just... whatever. Some people, man.'

'Yeah.'

Quiet for a bit then.

'I did think you were going to faint after the Swarm,' he said, lightly teasing smirk appearing upon his mouth, which made her own lips _itch_.

'Rich coming from the dude who nearly spewed after Nemesis.'

'I did not! I was merely... acclimating myself.'

They spent the rest of the walk to the Hall reliving the day before - Sidney was genuinely interested to know about Charlotte's time with the Parker babies and she was vaguely curious about the Saw ride.

At the Hall, they settled at their usual table and he fetched _flouncy _tea.

'So,' she said. 'Tell me what I should know about tomorrow. Should I be super professional or more chilled than that? Do I need lots of facts and figures or is it more about feelings? What kind of thing is he looking for? What's going to convince him to give us his money?'

'Take a breath, Heywood.'

'You told me to ask for help when I needed it. This is me asking for help.'

'All right.' He sipped his tea. 'Fuck me, that's _flouncy_.'

'Parker.'

'Yeah, sorry. So...' he took a breath. 'Consider this The Sidney Parker How To Succeed In Business and Convince People To Give You All Their Money Masterclass.'

'Pithy.'

'You want my help?'

'Yeah.'

'So don't mock the title.'

*

More than two hours and several cups of tea later, Sidney concluded the masterclass and Charlotte's head was overflowing. She'd started taking notes on her phone at one point and the battery was now at 12%.

'And that's... that.'

'Thank you. I feel a lot better now.'

'Good. And... holy shit. We're _so late_.'

She checked the time: more than an hour later than expected. 'Oh, bugger.'

'Come on, I'll drive.'

They made it to Trafalgar House just as Mary called Charlotte to check she was still alive. Mary put her phone down and looked at them.

'Are you all right?'

'Yeah. Just got caught up,' Sidney said, scooching past her to enter the house. 

'I'm so sorry!' Charlotte said with rather more consideration for their hostess and her efforts. 'Sidney was helping me with stuff for tomorrow.'

'No harm done. We're making burritos so the children have already had theirs.'

'Sorry,' Charlotte repeated. 

Mary patted her shoulder. 'It's really all right, lovely. I'm just glad you and Sidney are getting along now.'

Charlotte blushed then, and she _knew _Mary picked up on it, although she was too kind to say anything. Having Sidney Parker's undivided attention for so long was... _intoxicating_. She really did feel a little drunk, which was not possible unless Sanditon Hall had spiked the tea.

'Ah!' Tom poked his head out of his office. 'You're here. Come on, then.'

*

Sidney was not listening to Tom. If he was forced by a court of law to recall the discussions that evening, he would not be able to give anything more than the most basic summary.

Instead, all his attention was on Charlotte Heywood in the seat beside him.

All his attention had been on Charlotte for at least 24 hours. Since she'd climbed into the Aston's passenger seat? Since the aborted cycling trip? At least since then.

He had been in danger of developing emotions for a little while, he knew, but there had been something about their excursion. Was it the way the exercise made her eyes sparkle? It wasn't _just _the way she looked in lycra, although that by no means hurt.

She was beautiful, he thought. That was both _true _and not nearly as important as how he felt every time he spoke to her. 

She was _enraging _sometimes, but he couldn't deny that things had been very much better since they'd resolved to be friends.

As such, he was determined to be a decent human being and not treat her to the Sidney Parker Charm Offensive. It had an excellent success rate but he wasn't going to risk it. 

To his surprise, just getting along with her had been delightful. She was just _good people _and he left every single interaction with her now feeling better than he had before it. 

He just couldn't tell _her_ that.

It should've been mortifying to stand nearly-fucking-naked in front of her earlier. It should've at least been surprising to find her standing there, but it all seemed so perfectly _ordinary_. He ran into her everywhere, so why _not _there? 

If he believed in any of that sort of thing, he might think a higher power was at play, but he didn't, and there was no point anyway.

If it all went badly, and there was every reason to think it would, he'd ruin Sanditon for her. She'd come here as a refuge from her old life for good reasons; she'd found dear friends in his own family - who was he to wreck that for her?

If it went badly, and his own precedent said it would, he'd be yanking her life out from under her.

Unless his family chose _her_, which was not out of the bounds of possibility.

It had all happened last time, after all. A schism in entire friendship groups, cliques and the damned town. They'd largely chosen Eliza - because _of course_ they had. Eliza hadn't even returned to Sanditon but they all took her side anyway. It hadn't been a hard decision to for him keep away as long and as much as possible.

'...don't you think, Sidney?'

'What?' He sat up, startled, earning a snicker from Charlotte.

Tom sighed. 'It'll be best if you greet Milo when he arrives, and bring him into the cinema to meet Charlotte, James and I. Less overwhelming.'

'Whatever.'

'Sidney-'

He kicked at the leg of Tom's desk. 'Milo isn't going to be persuaded or not based on such choreography. As long as we're there, can answer his questions and prove it worthwhile, that's what matters.'

'But-'

'Some people are convinced by the style of presentation. Milo sees through all that bullshit and I think he'll be more impressed if we keep to the basics.'

'If you say so.'

'I do. Are we done?'

'I suppose-' Tom hadn't finished but Sidney was up on his feet and out of the room and the house within moments.

He very much wanted a cigarette but it was Day 98 and he wasn't falling off that wagon for anybody. He grabbed his vape kit and inhaled deeply, pretending that he hadn't seen the concern on Charlotte's face when he'd left.

'What's the matter?' Of course, she followed him into the garden. Of _course_. 

'You do pop up everywhere, Heywood.'

'It's an inherent talent rather than a consciously-developed skill, I assure you.' She stared across the garden. 'What's the matter?'

'Nothing. Just... want it over and done with.'

From inside Mary opened the kitchen window: 'Are you two actually going to _ eat _ anything today?'

He exhaled a cloud of sickly-sweet vape steam. 'Yeah. Hang on. Come on then, Heywood.'

'Lead on, Macduff.'

He cracked a grin. There might not be anything to be done, but he could at least enjoy the banter.

*

Sidney arrived at the derelict cinema at 10:45 the next morning to find Tom halfway to a heart attack.

'Stringer is delayed! Signal failures! How can we meet Milo without the architect, for God's sake?'

'Calm down. You've got his sketches and Charlotte knows what she's talking about.'

'Do I?' She was a little wild-eyed with nerves herself.

'Everyone take a big deep fucking breath and remember you're good at what you do, eh?'

Milo pulled up at precisely 11am in a Tesla that he parked directly outside the cinema in the space Tom had been hoarding for the last 12 hours. 'Sidney!'

'Hello, Milo! Decent journey?'

'Yeah, not bad. Can't wait to see- hey, the exteriors are pretty good.'

'Restored by the previous lot before the money ran out.'

'That's something.'

'I'll introduce you to Tom and Charlotte. Architect's stuck on a train outside Stevenage at the moment.'

'Bloody trains. No worries. Let's get on with it!'

Tom and Charlotte were waiting inside. Tom had a bag of popcorn for Milo to munch while they toured the site - a gimmick Sidney hadn't been able to prevent - and looked fit to burst at meeting such a monied potential investor.

'And this is Charlotte,' Sidney offered.

Milo beamed. 'Ah, the author of it all! Very well met, my lady!'

Charlotte blushed in a way that sent a most uncharacteristic fluttering through Sidney's stomach and for the first time he noted what a handsome cove Milo Shaw was in his own tall, dark, expensively looked-after way. 

'Shall we show you around?' Tom asked.

The tour began, with Tom taking the lion's share of commentary and Charlotte amiably interrupting when she needed to. Milo did indeed munch on his popcorn and asked questions that proved he was interested and engaged with the project.

'So, Charlotte,' he asked when they were stood on the stage, almost finished with the tour and looking out at hundreds of empty, worn and torn red velvet seats. 'What do you propose we use as our first screening?'

It was a good sign that Milo already spoke of "us".

'That depends on who we want to draw in, surely? I'd suggest something a little bit unusual or unlikely, but not obscure. What would get everyone interested? Something like... _the Goonies_. It was trending the other day just because it was on TV. Something people have an emotional connection to.'

'_The Goonies_ is set on the coast, too,' Milo noted. 'I like that idea.'

'Maybe a festival of sea-based movies? We can surely milk as much from the pirate movie genre as possible. Just like Disney do,' she joked.

This earned a delighted laugh from Milo. 'I like how your brain works, Charlotte. I reckon... I mean, I'm going to want to see the full structural survey and speak to your architect fellow but this does feel like a special place.'

'It is,' Sidney heard someone say and was faintly surprised it was himself. 'Generations of Sanditonites spent their childhoods here on a Saturday morning. What did you call cinemas last time we met? Palaces of dreams?'

'Sounds like me,' Milo conceded.

'This is our palace of dreams and adventures. I remember seeing _the Goonies _here when I was a boy. Tom brought me.'

'First time I was old enough to be the one in charge,' Tom remembered, a little misty-eyed. 'Mama was busy with baby Arthur and... we came down here for the Saturday morning re-run with fifty pence for sweets and... I'd forgotten that.'

'Cinema's a powerful collective memory,' Milo told them. 'Yes, I think- fuck it, let's just do it.'

Tom let out a little whoop of joy and Charlotte's shoulders sank with relief. Sidney himself felt a little weak in the knees. He'd forgotten the Goonies story, had forgotten Saturday mornings spent watching old children's movies to give his parents some peace and quiet.

He'd seen Eliza for the first time in this very cinema. They were nine and she'd just moved to town. She was in the queue for tickets with her mother and her golden hair _shone _in the lights. When she saw him looking at her and how _lovely _she was, she smiled and his whole heart just stopped.

Had he really been in love with Eliza since he was nine years old? He supposed so, yet it now felt like a faded memory from someone else's half-remembered life. When had the bitterness ebbed away?

'Sidney?' Charlotte reached out and touched his shoulder. 'You all right?

He blinked and felt the burn of hot tears fall - just a couple, but too many. 'Oh, yeah.'

'Yeah?'

'Yeah, just- I'd forgotten and now it feels... I dunno.'

'Want me to give you a minute?' She moved to leave and broke contact with him as she did - he missed the feeling instantly.

'You don't have to.'

'I'm sorry,' she said.

'What for?'

'I didn't mean to upset-'

'You haven't. Don't worry. Just... recalibrating.'

'OK...'

'You know when you remember something but then realise that you don't feel the same way anymore? Like you_ remember_ feeling it but you just _don't feel _like that now?'

'Yes, I do.'

'That's all it is. It'll pass soon enough. '

'Shall we catch up with them?'

'Yeah, but- thank you, Charlotte.'

'What for?'

'I dunno - caring?'

She regarded him for a long moment and he dearly wished to know what she was thinking. 'You're welcome, Sidney.'

'We couldn't have done it without you. You're... extraordinary, really.'

'I'm not-'

He grabbed her hands without thinking. 'Yes, you are.'

She froze, except for the widening of her eyes. Oh _fuck_. He dropped her hands. 'Sorry, I mean...'

'It's all right.'

'I'm just... very happy. For Sanditon.'

'Yeah. Me too. For Sanditon.'

After a painfully awkward moment, the followed Tom and Milo out into the sunshine and fresh air. A verbal agreement to invest was made and although Milo stopped short at "money is no object", it was not far off.

The Tesla roared off to wherever Milo was going, leaving the three of them to stand quietly a moment. 

'So,' Tom said as if an extremely wealthy man hadn't just offered them over a million quid to renovate one of the town's most prominent buildings. 'Celebratory coffees at the Cabin are on me!'

Sidney flicked Charlotte an amusedly affectionate look at Tom's effervescent glee. He did not, surely, mistake the red blush that rose up and for the first time, allowed himself to hope.

Not much, and he tried to squash it down, but that was definitely a little bit of hope.

*


	20. On the Occasion of a Sleepover

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for all the super comments on the last part! 
> 
> My work situation has changed this week so I simply don't have the 2-3hr chunks of time to spend at Starbucks. Trust me, this is worse for me than for you! I'll try to keep up some momentum but daily updates might be a bit too far.

While at Thorpe Park, Gigi and Arabella had arranged a sleepover for but it soon became obvious that a teen girl sleepover was almost certainly bound to disrupt the carefully balanced peace at Trafalgar House.

Gigi understood this but was also not quiet about her dismay when Tom, Sidney and Charlotte arrived at the Coffee Cabin for their celebratory beverages.

Sidney and Charlotte, and then also Mary, had to wrangle Tom firmly to stop him making too much of a public show before anything had been signed - once this was accomplished, Gigi presented her problem to Charlotte as they sat at the window table with oversized iced lattes. 

Charlotte listened to Gigi's concerns with the patience of a wise older sister who had similar experiences once upon a time. 'Well... you'll need to make sure Sidney's all right with it, but you can take over at mine for the night if you promise not to trash it.'

Gigi's jaw dropped. 'What? Really?'

Charlotte shrugged - it didn't feel like a particularly big deal to her. 'I'll stay at Trafalgar. Just a straight swap.'

'Yeah? You're the best!'

'Sidney needs to agree - and Mary too!'

'All right.' Gigi leaned over the back of her chair and directed her attention to Sidney where he stood at the counter talking to Arthur and Mary. 'SIDNEY!' 

He jumped at the noise, as did everyone else inside the coffee shop. And outside it, and quite likely anyone in a 250m radius.

'Good grief, Georgiana,' he replied at a much lower volume. 'Have you no manners? Don't bellow like you're Brian Blessed.'

She scrambled off her chair and over to them, where she relayed the potential plan, radiating excitement.

'If Charlotte is happy?' he asked, casting a glance at her across the shop. She nodded, guessing more than hearing. 'Then I have no objection. No drinking.'

'Hey! We're not idiots.' She shook her locs. 'Drinking is for adults who need to dull the pain of their sad and dreary lives.'

'Touché. I have one amendment to make.'

Gigi's eyes narrowed suspiciously. 'What?'

'I will get Charlotte a room at the Hall as a thank you rather than making her stay in your pit of a room.'

Gigi openly smirked like the Grinch with a plan. 'You'll _get Charlotte a room_?'

Arthur snorted at the entendre; Mary's eyebrows rose. 

Sidney sighed. 'Oh, come on. Not like that. God, you kids today.' 

*

So it was that on Friday afternoon, Charlotte arrived at Sanditon Hall with an overnight bag and a tummy full of nerves. She hadn't wanted to reject the kind gesture but it also felt like too much to be sleeping in the same building as her currently active crush.

She'd nearly had a heart attack in the cinema when he grabbed her hands. He just _held her hands for a tiny fucking second _and she nearly collapsed. And now she was jittery at the notion of, what, sleeping close enough to share a fire alarm system?

Pathetic child that she was. It was worse than with Daniel. At least then she'd just quietly adored him from afar, fairly well-contented that nothing ever would happen but-

She stopped herself. No point getting into that as well.

'Hello, Charlotte!' Esther Denham was at the desk. 'Welcome to Sanditon Hall! As a guest, at last!'

There was something bubbly about Esther that was unlike the woman Charlotte had come to know of late. 

'Hi. Apparently there's a room for me.'

'Yes, indeed! Room 409 - lovely view of the lake. And three treatments-'

'No, it's just the room-'

_ 'No,_ it's an overnight stay with three treatments. Today or tomorrow or a combination. And as it's you, I've thrown in late check-out tomorrow.'

'OK...' She was going to have to have a word with Sidney Parker. 'Thanks, Esther.'

'The Duchess of Sunderland is arriving later,' Esther whispered to her. 'So beware of Roaming Lady Annabels.'

'Good to know. Tell Babington I said hi, too.'

Esther recoiled. 'I'm sure I don't know what you mean.'

'Yeah, all right. My mistake.' Charlotte laughed. 'I'll get settled in.'

'Please do. Oh, and dinner is served from 6:30 onwards. Do you want to reserve a table?'

'Nah, I'll-'

'Charlotte, it's all included. _Enjoy_.'

What the fuck had Sidney Parker _done_? She took the stairs instead of the lift and found Room 409. Compared to some rooms it was small but it was very well appointed and the bathroom was a full-on wet room with a rain shower, three jet showers and sensory lights.

Her phone pinged.

** The Best Parker: **Esther says you're here. Babs, Crowe and I are down in the bar if you want to hang out. You don't have to.  
**Me: **Why exactly have I been put in a fancy room with treatments and dinner included?  
**The Best Parker: **That's how it works.  
**Me:** Pull the other one, Parker, it's got bells on.  
**The Best Parker: **You keep doing stuff for my family & I'm just trying to repay the favour but you're really bad at taking cues so I just did it. Suck it up, Heywood. Come downstairs. If you want.

She unpacked for a few minutes but eventually, there was nowt to do but go downstairs and face whatever was waiting for her.

_ University Challenged _had taken a table in a dark corner of the bar that thoroughly ignored the true nature of summer outside. 1960s soul music filled the air while the barman stood reading his phone for lack of anything else to do. The hotel's other guests had much better things to do than sit in a dark bar drinking, after all.

'If it isn't Katharine Hepburn!' Babington called. 'Come, sit with us.'

'Are you lot drunk at-' she checked the time. 'Four o'clock on a Friday?'

'Lord, no!' Babington said. 'Auntie arrives soon and I daren't be pissed when she does. Just high on life.'

'Right, yeah.' She considered Esther's mood earlier and decided to leave it be - for now. 'Sure.'

'By contrast, I_ am _drunk,' Crowe said, waving an empty highball glass.

Sidney lounged in his seat, long legs stretched out and a bottle of local beer dangling in his fingers. He turned a dark expression on her that actually sent a bloody _shiver _down her spine. 'I am not drunk, but I'm working on it.'

'Well, far be it from me to tell you what to do,' she said. 'But as we tend to have massive arguments when you're drunk, I'm going to go-'

He sat up, clear-eyed, before she could move more than a muscle. 'It was a joke, Heywood. Sit down.'

Crowe snorted and Charlotte could only imagine what had caused it.

She hesitated though. 'I'll get a drink first-'

Before she could, Babington waved over a member of staff. 'Whatever Miss Heywood wants. On my tab.'

'Cranberry soda is fine.'

'Lighten up!' Crowe, er _crowed_.

'Cranberry soda is _fine_,' she repeated. 'Maybe later. How long have you all been sat here?'

'Well, we sat down for lunch...' Crowe trailed off a moment. 'Yeah, we sat down for lunch.'

'OK.' That was quite a few hours of drinking time.

'He's pulling your leg,' Babington said. 'We got here about half an hour ago.'

'Are Gigi and Arabella all right?' Sidney asked, rolling his bottle between his fingers.

'When I left they were putting together Spotify playlists and deciding whether to watch _Lord of the Rings _or _Star Wars_. I think they'll be fine. And you're forgetting one thing.'

'Which is?'

'They _like _me. They won't risk upsetting me by wrecking my house.'

'Are you sure? What if they posted it on Facebook like that kid in the press a while ago-'

'You're talking about Gigi and Arabella. They wouldn't demean themselves so.' She paused to thank the waiter for her swiftly-delivered drink. 'Just because _ you _ were a badly behaved teenager doesn't mean they are.'

'I suppose that's true. Thank God.'

'Can you imagine if Parker had to look after a kid who was just like him?' Crowe asked.

'It would be fair retribution, I suppose. For all the sleepless nights he's caused.'

'I was actually a very well-behaved boy, I'll have you know. It was only when I met up with _these_ reprobates at university that it all went to hell.' He took a swig of his beer. 'In any case, welcome to Sanditon Hall, Heywood.'

'You're one of us now,' Babington said, but quite what he meant by it would remain unknown as his ringtone cut him off. 

'Bugger.' He answered. 'Auntie Sun, you're here? I'll come and meet you. Yes, they know you wanted a South-facing room. Yes, they know you're allergic to polyester. Yes, they- I'm coming out now.' 

He ended the call and turned to them. 'Duty calls. See you anon.'

Babington rushed away, leaving Crowe, Sidney and Charlotte.

'Thank you,' Sidney mumbled. 'For what you've done for Gigi. It was looking like it couldn't happen without causing chaos. Jenny wanted to join in; Alicia wanted to know when she could have a sleepover with her friends and nobody wants Henry to get anything less than a full night's sleep.'

'It's really all good. It's no hardship for me, and wouldn't be even if you hadn't put me in a room here. You really must've spent too much-'

'Oh hush, it's fine.' He waved a hand dismissively but forgot the bottle was still in it and he unconsciously licked the spilt drops from his arm, sending a jolt of discomfort through Charlotte without even noticing.

The shadows cast him in an altogether too appealingly libertine attitude, like a 30s movie star or 70s rock star. Charlotte's pulse was loud in her ears and she stared down into her own drink to avoid embarrassing herself.

'I was thinking about it,' he said casually. 'You really do a lot for the Parkers. The amount of unpaid childcare alone-'

'I'm not a member of staff,' she cut in. 'I play with those children because I adore them.'

'Yeah, but it's still a form of work - or effort if you prefer - and I think they've grown so used to it that they've forgotten to actually be grateful. So yeah, have a bloody massage or whatever you choose. Ask for help.'

'You keep saying that to me. Are you under the impression that I don't do that?'

'I know you don't. I see you, Charlotte Heywood. Just like... never mind.'

Her heart thumped in her chest at the possible meanings of what he'd just said, and what he stopped himself saying. 'What?'

He swigged heavily at his beer and shook his head. 'Never mind.'

'What?'

'Never_ mind_.' His gaze darted to Crowe. 'I'm getting drunk. Ignore everything I say.'

'All right, then. Are you two going to get dinner or have you sworn off solid food?'

'We can get all our calories from whiskey,' Crowe replied.

'No, we can't,' Sidney sighed. 'You really should eat. So should I. Heywood, will you eat with us?'

'If you like. I'm going to go and book some totally unnecessary pampering first.'

'Do that.'

'I will.' She finished her drink. 'I really don't mean to be rude, but I do have better things to do than watch you two get drunk so... I'll see you later.'

Crowe waved eagerly to the bartender. 'Yes, ta-ra then.'

Sidney fixed her with an unreadably ambiguous look. 'Enjoy.'

'I will.'

*

Charlotte did, in fact, enjoy herself. She was able to get directly in for a hot stone massage before transferring to the treatment room for a facial. From there she moseyed to the spa where she availed herself of the hydro pool, the sauna and the steam room.

By the time she reached the Hall's bright, airy restaurant, Charlotte was about as chill as she'd ever been. She dressed up a little in deference to her surroundings and was immediately glad of it when Babington pushed her in front of the absolute poshest woman she'd ever met.

'Auntie, this is Miss Heywood. She's a friend of the Parkers and is staying here this evening. Charlotte, this is my aunt Hippolyta, Duchess of Sunderland.'

Her Grace Hippolyta, Duchess of Sunderland, was a tall stick of a woman with a long Roman nose and thin lips. Her artificially black hair was cut into a stylish but severe bob and her silver dress made her look like a recently unearthed art deco cadaver. She had a set of keen green eyes that appeared to size up Charlotte in seconds.

'Pleasure to meet you.' Auntie Sunderland's accent would've cut anything less than cut diamonds, let alone glass.

'How do you like Sanditon so far, Your Grace?'

'Haven't seen much of it yet but it's a pretty enough place. We used to have a house a lot like this on the Hampshire estate. Had to let that go, of course.'

'Of course.'

'Gideon here says you're an editor. What kind of editor?' This was everyone's cue to sit down, with Charlotte wedged between Babington and Sidney.

'Books. Educational textbooks, mostly.'

'That sounds like a worthy sort of endeavour.'

'I think so.'

'I wasn't much given to school,' she said. 'Much preferred being outside.'

'I agree. It took me a long time to appreciate the power of a good education... and even now, I think I'd still rather be outside.'

'Good gel! Now, Gideon was useless at telling me anything about you. Are you married? Children?'

'None of the above, Your Grace-'

'None of that, now.'

'It's "my lady" if you must,' Sidney whispered, not very quietly. 

The Duchess fixed him with a glare. 'Sidney Parker, you know better. You may call me Sun, if you must call me anything. Are you a lesbian, Miss Heywood?'

Sidney and Crowe both spluttered into their drinks. 

'If you're going to ask personal questions, _Sun, _you should at least call me Charlotte while you do it.'

'Are you a lesbian, Charlotte?'

'Nope. How do you go from "not married, no children" directly to "lesbian"? It seems quite patriarchal to assume that if a woman is not married and has no children that she must be a lesbian, and totally ignores all the lesbians who are married and/or mothers.'

'What an opinionated young woman you are - jolly good, I say! And you're quite right, of course. You know, my dearest friend in all the world is a lesbian.'

'Auntie Sund-'

'Oh shush, Gideon. I'm just talking, I don't mean anything bad by it. I was nineteen when I married and it was much too young. I say good on you, Charlotte. Don't let anyone tie you down until you're good and ready for it.'

Sidney, Crowe and Babington all now spluttered at the hopefully unwitting double entendre. 

'Some people pay a lot of money for that sort of thing,' Charlotte replied, assuming a look of total innocence. 

A member of the waitstaff approached, nervously enquiring if they were ready to order. They were not, of course, and so now took a moment to peruse the menu properly and make informed choices.

Conversation, while they waited for their food, was at times stilted but mostly of the faintly _pleasant _small talk-variety that interested nobody but offended none.

Charlotte couldn't quite believe she was eating dinner in a luxury health club with a duchess. What even was her life anymore? When had this all started?

A hearty laugh almost inside her head startled her. Sidney. Didn't it come back to Sidney, in fact, with his posh friends and their posher relations? She wouldn't even be there right then if not for Sidney Parker.

This train of thought was _not _helping her general preoccupation with the dark and pseudo-Byronic dickhead, so she blinked several times and focused instead on her salmon _en papillote_.

She concentrated so hard, in fact, that as the pudding course arrived, Sidney had to elbow her in the ribs to catch her attention.

'What planet are you on, Heywood?' he asked, spoon already sticking in his raspberry sorbet.

Her own dessert, a slice of tiramisu ice cream cake, looked gorgeous. She hesitated before digging in. 'Just... thinking. Lots of work.'

'You work too hard. I was telling them about the meeting with Milo.'

'Ah. Yes, I think it went very well.'

'I should say! He reckons we'll have the papers signed by Tuesday and the first chunk of change by the end of the week.'

'That fast?'

'He wants it ready in time for next season. These filthy rich folks are used to getting what they want and getting it _tout de suite_.'

She had nothing to say to this that wasn't a barbed remark liable to offend every single other person at the table, so she said nothing.

Auntie Sunderland had more to say: 'What of your family, Miss Heywood? Charlotte.'

Charlotte explained briefly about her ancient family, how it had remained solidly in the lower half of the landed gentry for generations, toiling dutifully upon the land alongside its tenants.

'How do you find the rise of mega-farms?' the Duchess asked. 'I find I'm being pressurised to sell my land to these bastards. Between that and the squeeze on farm gate prices, I expect smaller landowners are in a lot of trouble.'

Charlotte nodded. She didn't fancy speaking of her family's situation but had been asked and would be honest: 'It's horrible. If it's not them, it's developers wanting the land for residential or leisure housing. My father won't sell. What my brother does eventually, I don't know.'

'Your brother?' Sidney's eyebrows furrowed. 'Isn't he in Australia?'

He'd remembered that? 'Yeah, but he knows the estate is his when my dad retires, or more likely, dies without ever having a day of rest in his life.'

'Not yours? Wouldn't you want it?'

'I'm not a farmer! And my dad is an old-fashioned sort. That sort of thing goes to the eldest son.'

'That's...'

'Yeah, but it's what it is. Nicky_ is_ a farmer, even though he's off in Sydney right now.'

Crowe muttered something to Babington then, which set the Lord to raucous, almost filthy laughter. The Duchess rapped her nephew on the knuckles like was five, not 32.

'I wouldn't want to go back there, anyway. Sanditon is home now, as far as I'm concerned. I can't think of much that would entice me to move away. I know... I know it's not to everyone's tastes, but to me, it's home.'

Babington raised his half-empty wine glass to her. 'That's why Charlotte is practically in charge of the transformation of Sanditon.'

'That's really not true. It's really very much Tom and Stringer's baby. I'm here to make sure all the little things happen to make the big things work.'

'That's not _nothing_,' Crowe said. 'I wouldn't get even half my work done without my assistants.'

'You'd get more done if you were sober longer,' Sidney retorted, receiving a middle finger in return.

'Remember you are gentlemen,' Sun said. 

Crowe twisted to look over his shoulder. 'Where?'

'Pretend all you like, but class will always out, Roderick.'

Charlotte bit her tongue again. Auntie Sunderland was an eccentric old lady but she was still aristocratic all the way down to the blue in her blood cells and the silver spoon in her mouth.

Sidney smirked and rolled his eyes at her, and she felt the thrill of having a private joke with him slide down her spine. So, she went back to her dessert, hoping all would be done as soon as possible and she could escape to her room.

They remained for brandy (Babington, Crowe and Auntie Sunderland) or coffee (Charlotte and Sidney), still talking about relatively unimportant, uncontroversial things like international travel and the Season - neither of which she could say much about - and then it was finally,_ finally _time to wrap it all up.

'Right, who's coming to walk all this off?' Babington asked. 'I reckon we can reach the fire-pit before dark.'

'Fire-pit?' she asked, having never heard of such a thing at the Hall.

'Oho! You must see. Come along! Auntie Sunderland, shall we see you for breakfast?'

'Seven o'clock sharp, boy. Now, go away.'

Babington pressed a solicitous kiss against his aunt's cheek and then led the way out of the restaurant, onto the terrace and down towards the lake.

With Auntie Sunderland out of the way, the conversation turned more interesting as they walked - first to the lake and then around it towards the woods. There was only so far they _could _go - the cliffs were on the other side of the ribbon of trees - and before they reached the woods, they turned and took a path downwards.

A previous owner of the Hall in the early 20th Century had tried to make some quick cash by quarrying rock at the edge of the estate but what had been a promising seam of rock soon turned to trash, leaving nothing but an ugly hole in the ground.

The Hotel & Health Club - Esther, in reality - had taken advantage by installing a large fire pit in the hole where they would host barbeques and other events.

For now, the fire-pit was in use as a way to make some small entertainment for guests after dark on the weekends. A bar was set up to provide more light snacks, beer and wine, and a few guests were already present.

The red and orange flames cast eerie, not altogether pleasant shadows on the overgrown, crumbled quarry walls that Charlotte found quite disconcerting, to begin with. The sound echoed and rattled around unnaturally - the chat and laughter of drunk rich people and of the stereo system that wasn't strong enough to cover the entire space - but after a few moments, it felt less weird and more... _alive_.

Crowe put a bottle of beer into her hand and with food in her stomach now, she took it. Decent, if bland, she thought. 

The quartet took up places near the fire and was soon a quintet when Esther Denham arrived and took up a place so close to Babington that she was practically in his lap.

'When did that happen?' Charlotte whispered to Sidney as Esther greeted Babington with a light, somehow sardonic, kiss on the lips and he wrapped his arm around her.

'God knows. Not as soon as he'd have liked.'

'Do you suppose they're serious?'

'Not as serious as he'd like.'

'Yeah? Well, good for them.' Charlotte stretched out a little and stared into the fire. 'In this horrible fucking world, it's nice to see people be happy.'

'If it lasts.'

'Cynical bastard.'

'Just realistic.'

They sat quietly then. Babington and Esther were deep in a conversation to which nobody else was invited; Crowe was at the bar, probably trying to seduce the woman tending bar either into bed or free drinks or both.

The fire roared and crackled, flames dancing and rolling. Charlotte found herself drawn to it so she could not look away.

'What are you thinking about, Heywood?'

She jumped - Sidney was still there? Of course he was. 'I wasn't thinking at all.'

'Doesn't sound like you.'

'What were you thinking?'

'That this feels like the opening to at least a dozen horror movies.'

'You're the handsome white dude; you'll be fine.'

'Handsome, eh?'

Bugger. 'Objectively speaking, yeah.'

He grinned, the flames twisting the shadows around his face into something quite demonic. 'That felt like being damned with faint praise.'

'Parker, I don't have to tell you what you look like.'

'No, but it's always nice to hear. Especially from a beautiful woman like you.'

'Fuck off, you're just saying that.'

'I'm not.'

_ Fuck_. 'I reached my _bantz_ limit about five years ago, so-'

'Not banter, Heywood, the truth. I promise you.'

Her heart leapt up her throat, practically into her mouth, which at least stopped her saying something really stupid.

'Charlotte-' He was cut off by a crash at the bar. Crowe had fallen into the empty bottle crate but stood up without a scratch and declared himself well.

She took this as her opportunity to bolt and scrambled to her feet: 'I'd better get to bed. Really tired and well- night!'

*


	21. A Girl Called Dusty, Track 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for all the awesome comments so far.
> 
> Let's see what's going on then...

Sidney watched Charlotte rush away, his heart pounding a polka even as it fell low in his chest. He was ready and more than willing to _strangle _fucking Crowe (now righted and taking another drink). A glance back away from the fire showed that Babbers and Esther hadn't even noticed the clamour. 

Without conscious thought, Sidney was up on his feet and rushing after Charlotte. If he bumped into someone and set their drink to spill, he neither noticed nor cared. He'd hesitated too long and she might easily slip away entirely.

Away from the fire, it was now dark and cold along the path: the moon was mostly hidden by the tree canopy above.

'Heywood!' He walked as fast as he could in the faltering light. Fortunately, she was wearing a light colour and he caught its dull gleam up ahead. 'Charlotte!'

He saw her stop, shoulders high and tense. 'What?' She sounded very far away, somehow.

'Are you OK?'

'Fine.'

'Yeah, right.' He reached her and moved to touch her shoulder, though she shifted away. 'Really, what's-'

'Nothing.'

'I don't believe you.'

'I'm tired.'

'I don't believe you.' He sighed and searched for any reason to extend their interactions. If she went to her room, that was almost certainly _it _for now. 'Want to walk down to the sea with me? It's not far.'

In the dim light, he could almost see her weighing up the possibilities. So, he tried a different strategy: 'Please? If I fall down and die in the dark I'll at least have someone there to raise the alarm.'

She chuckled slightly. 'All right.'

They walked in absolute silence through the woods and along to the cliff path. There was much more moonlight here, reflecting off the sea, and it was easy to make it safely down the scrambled path to the water's edge.

There was a tiny stone beach upon which the waters gently swished. It was unbearably lovely and with the moon high above setting the sea to glittering silver, a painfully romantic setting.

'So, will you tell me what's wrong?' he asked, hoping not to scare her off again. 'You don't have to.'

The moonlight made her look even more otherworldly than usual even as she seemed to be trying to make herself as small and invisible as possible. It didn't work, of course.

She hugged her arms around herself. 'I just... never mind.'

'I do mind. There's been something off with you all day.'

'No...'

He tugged her over to a wide, flat stone and sat her down, even as she refused to look at him. 'I'm not criticising you, just concerned. Tell Uncle Sidney all about it and maybe you'll feel better.'

Charlotte flinched and gagged over-dramatically. '_Uncle_? God, don't!'

'Is it Auntie Sunderland? She's blunt but she's not too awful.'

'I know.'

'So, what's wrong?'

'Noth-'

'Don't say nothing.' Feeling a little bold and determined to wrangle the truth, Sidney took her hand, much as he had in the cinema. 'You don't have to tell me what's wrong, of course, you don't. But tell _someone_.'

'It's really noth- not much. I'll get over it soon enough.'

'Ah.'

She pulled her hand away. 'What _ah_, Parker? You don't know what's going on with me.'

'Did you catch feelings for someone? Is it Crowe? Or perhaps our new gazillionaire friend Milo.' He tried and failed to keep the bitterness away but he knew he sounded like a _bastard_.

If Charlotte noticed what a dick he sounded, she didn't show it, too busy apparently being confused: 'What? No! You get some weird ideas sometimes, Parker.'

'So, who then?' His heart suddenly stopped. 'I mean, this is about _someone_, yes?'

He watched Charlotte take in a long deep breath, close her eyes and hold it a moment before releasing it slowly. He took the opportunity to just _look _at her for as long as he could, undetected.

He'd been joking, at least a little, about this being a crush on Crowe, and he'd hoped it wasn't Milo. He was suddenly certain he was right that this was about _someone_.

Charlotte's eyes opened and fixed on a point somewhere in the sea ahead. 'I don't know what to do.'

'Ask for help, then. You can tell me... bloody hell, after everything I hope you know you can tell me anything.'

'Do you remember when I told you that I hadn't... you know?'

'Yeah...' He really didn't like where this was going.

'And you joked about being - was it a host body? Something a little bit gross like that.'

'Yeah...' He did not _necessarily _hate where this might be going.

Charlotte turned now, big brown eyes looking up at him. 'Would you...'

'No, I won't.'

'OK.' She shifted away, ready to stand up and flee again. 'Stupid idea, I just-'

He had to be clearer, and _quickly_: 'What _you _said that evening. That you wanted to kiss someone because it would feel like doing anything else would be wrong? You're right. That is what it's meant to be like. When you're lucky enough to have found someone good enough for you. And whoever it is, if they're lucky enough to be wanted by _you_, then they must be good enough. Because you're... extraordinary.'

'No-'

'Yes, you are.' He put his arm around her shoulder then and pulled her closer. 'You _are_. I don't know where you got the idea that you're anything else.'

'Maybe the same place you decided you should live down to people's expectations?'

'A hit, a very palpable hit! This is what I mean, Heywood. Nobody talks to me like you do.'

'Like what?'

'You tell me the truth. From the very first moment, come to think of it.'

'Yeah...' She did not move away and he quite unconsciously held her closer until she rested her head on his shoulder. It felt so absolutely natural and correct that it took him a moment to realise.

'You don't have to tell me,' he said. 'Of course you don't. But if you do want to talk, I promise not to judge or mock. Tease lightly maybe, but not mock you.'

'Thank you, but... I don't think... I mean...'

'Yeah?'

He felt her take a long deep breath that filled her lungs and drew her closer to him. His arm _burned _as his heart sped up.

'How can I talk to you about it when- never mind.'

'Not "never mind". I really want to know now.'

'Not Crowe.'

'Thank God, he's an arsehole.'

'Not Milo.'

'Good, that would be a conflict of interests. Not Babington, I hope, because he's pretty far gone on Esther-'

'Not Babington, Parker.'

He tried to think of any other men of their acquaintance. She'd already dismissed his enquiries about Stringer. He craned his neck down to look at her. 'OK, so it must be-'

He stopped talking. Indeed, he stopped thinking and would hardly be surprised if his heart stopped beating and he stopped _breathing _as Charlotte leaned up and set her lips - soft and warm - against his.

It was a chaste thing, really. A simple press of skin upon skin; just a moment, then release. He hadn't been kissed like that since-

Sidney had never been kissed like that. He and Eliza had not been that way inclined, even as teenagers.

Charlotte tried to bolt but he held fast.

'Charlotte-'

'Sorry, I didn't mean-'

'Don't apologise. I didn't- I mean-'

'I should've asked. I didn't mean to- sorry.'

'Don't fucking apologise! Do you want to rescind it?'

She didn't reply and it occurred to him that Charlotte had exhausted her day's supply of courage. It was therefore on him to continue.

That, he thought, was no hardship. 'Well then.'

The second Sidney Parker-Charlotte Heywood kiss was almost as chaste as the first and they bumped foreheads after a moment, which made her start to giggle.

The tension broken, she leaned into him again. 'Did that just happen?'

'Yes, and _you _started it.'

'I didn't mean to!'

'Maybe,' he ventured. 'The thought of _not _snogging me was too painful to bear?'

'That, Parker, was _not_ a snog.'

'No, but I'm holding out hope.'

'You are?'

'Certainly.' Indeed, at the sight of Charlotte looking up at him with barely disguised affection _and _want, he felt a leaden weight leave his shoulders that he'd been carrying so long he'd almost forgotten it was there. 'Had I the slightest notion you returned my feelings, I would've done something about it. Last fucking time I try to be a gentleman.'

This set her to laughing out loud, a sound he found quite, quite beautiful. He looked out at the sea again and found it even lovelier than when they'd arrived.

'Is this what's been bothering you?'

'Yes. That, and the hotel room and the treatments and... I wasn't sure what you were about.'

'I really was just trying to do something nice for my friend Heywood. Because you _are _my friend and I think you're the first person I've ever kissed that I can say that about. Isn't that sad?'

'She wasn't your friend? The girl-'

'Never.'

'Then yeah, that's a little bit sad. Sad like me having a ton of friends and yet getting this far without being kissed.'

'It's not sad that you held out for the absolute best.'

'You're an arrogant bastard.'

'Guilty.'

'Just as well you're cute too, I suppose?'

He fluttered his eyelashes then. 'You're too kind.'

She sobered then. 'What happens now?'

'Well, I figure we stay out here snogging until it's too cold, then we return to the hotel-' he felt her tense up 'where I will snog you senseless at your door then leave you to have magnificent sexy dreams all about _me_.'

'God, you're unbearable. I should've known you'd be _unbearable_.'

Sidney grinned. 'Just happy.'

'You said you've been... how long have you felt-'

'I can't put my finger on an exact moment, to be honest. Just... I know I was surprised to feel as guilty as I did for shouting at you. I know I found myself wanting to come home to Sanditon in a way I never have. I know I was glad to see _you _waited for me during the bike ride- not anyone else, _you_. I know... I know I wish you're here when you're not. But you've tricked me into waxing lyrical, you scheming minx. What about you?'

She gave this serious consideration. 'I don't know either. I tried to ignore it for such a long time. I didn't think you would _ ever _ look at me.'

'Why not?'

'Because you think I'm a student or some leech on Tom and Mary, or just some rural nobody-'

'Hey now.' He pressed a finger to her lips to shush her. 'I was very wrong about those first two and that third one is all you.'

'Maybe. But you... you live in London, the_ rich_ version with all the beautiful women and-'

'That's your damage, not mine, love. I'm really bored with all that.'

'Bored? So you're slumming it with me-'

'Hey, now.' He paused, feeling himself get angry. 'Don't try and pick a fight with me, Heywood. I'm not going anywhere even if you do.'

'I'm not-'

'I know this is new and... bewildering. Because it is for me too. I've never- I mean, this is... extraordinary.' He kissed her again, just in case he'd forgotten the feeling. 'You can't bait me into leaving, Charlotte. I'm onto you now.'

'Oh yeah?' Now she did smile, the smirk he recognised as "challenge accepted". 'So, what are you going to do?'

'Well... first, I think it only fair to inform you I'm not going anywhere until I get my snog. But... I'm in no rush and I'm not going anywhere, so you don't need to be afraid.'

'It feels like that song...'

'What song?'

'Dusty, maybe. _"Tonight, you're mine..." _It's, um... "Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow?" and it feels like that. Like it's a dream and you-'

'Well, I happen to know it was written by Carole King and the Shirelles did the original... and there's no "Still" in the title.'

'Fuck me, you're annoying, Parker.'

'All in good time and yes, I am. It's a gift.'

She dared now to reach up and run her hands through his hair. He closed his eyes and just enjoyed the sensation. 'I've wanted to do that for ages.'

'Heywood, in due course, I am going to introduce you to the list I have in my head of all the things I've wanted to do...' He sighed as her fingers ran across his skull. 'But it'll take more than one evening.'

'What's the first thing on the list?'

Sidney leaned in and provided Charlotte with her first actual, proper, honest-to-goodness-has-nothing-to-do-with-it snog. By the time they were done, they had to catch their breath and had ended up not on the smooth rock but on the beach itself, with pebbles digging in.

Clearly, he thought quite out of nowhere, they should spend time on secluded beaches more often.

'Ow!' She sat up, rubbing her back a little. 'Not ideal.'

'Come on, then.' He stood and helped her to her feet. Keeping hold of her hand, he led them away from the beach in the direction of the Hall.

'You don't want to go back to your friends at the firepit?' she asked as they skirted the edge of the lake.

'Fuck no.'

'You don't mind that I won't-'

'Fuck no.'

'You don't mind that-'

'Whatever you're going to ask, the answer is the same.' He pulled her to him in order to kiss her soundly. Releasing her again, he pushed her hair out of her eyes. 'You are perfect, just the way you are.'

She blushed so deeply that he could see the change even in the dark night - for he had checked his watch and it was much later than he thought. 

'So are you,' she whispered.

'I am a great deal _less _than perfect-'

'I know, and so am I. But you're still perfect, just the way you are.'

In that exact moment, Sidney finally truly, completely realised what she'd meant when she said it should be someone she kissed because the idea of _not _kissing them was too ridiculous.

So, he kissed her again. 

*


	22. Breakfast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for your extraordinary response to the last chapter - I don't think I've ever had so many comments on a single chapter that they take up more than a page of comments!
> 
> So, so happy you all liked it! 
> 
> Here's the next bit now, written in a bit of rush this morning while listening to Joe Strummer and the Mescaleros. Whether that has an impact on it or not, I don't know, but you could do worse than looking up Joe on Spotify today.
> 
> Next part likely to take longer to update because work and then Crimbo and whatnot. Thanks for your patience!

Charlotte did not make it back to her room that night. Nor, in point of fact, did Sidney. By tacit mutual agreement, they'd returned to the Hall and stopped at the bar to get drinks, which translated into sitting in the corner where it was warm and dark and they might be left quite alone.

There, they talked all night. Not until 2 am or 4 am, but until half-past _six_ when the staff asked very politely if they might be allowed the space to set up for breakfast.

They spoke of _everything_, more or less. If they had been getting to know each other well before, they now all-but-peered into the other's soul as it was laid bare for them.

The only off-limits topic - also by tacit mutual agreement - was Eliza. Was it that Sidney didn't want to speak of it or they didn't want to sully their experience with it? Neither looked too deeply into that.

'We should...' Sidney cleared his throat. It was one thing to stare into another person's soul in the inky night and another to do it on a cold Saturday morning with ketchup bottles clinking in the background. 'Pretend we've been to bed?"

'I think I'd like a shower,' she said. Sidney raised an eyebrow, picturing- 'I can see what you're thinking.'

'It's a relief not to hide it anymore. I'm not going to apologise for fancying the _fuck _out of you, Heywood.' By way of demonstration, he pulled her into a hug that almost brought her fully into his lap.

'The feeling,' she said, trailing her fingers along his arm. 'Is mutual, Parker. But for now...'

'Yeah, for now.'

'I should get back home and check on-'

'Not until check out. Use your time. You've got a treatment left, yes?'

'Yeah, but-'

'Use it. I'm going to get in the steam room and then the _cold _shower.' He waggled his eyebrows. 

'You dork. But actually... the steam room sounds nice.'

Sidney did try to suppress his reaction this time, but to no avail, if her laugh was anything to go by. 'Go, do whatever you're going to do.'

'Will I meet you here for breakfast?'

'If you like.'

'I do like.'

'Good. So do I. Down here at eight?'

'OK.'

They parted then, not minding at all while it was temporary. They both drifted to their rooms each feeling full of heart and soul.

Sidney's phone had died sometime during the long night and as soon as he plugged it in to charge, it came alive with messages. The first had been sent not long after he'd gone after Charlotte.

** Georgiana**: SIDNEY! CHARLOTTE IS THE BEST! YOU KNOW THAT RIGHT?  
**Babbers**: I'm in love, Sid. Actual love.  
**Crowe:** Where did you fuck off to? Are you dead?  
**Babbers**: Did you leave? Where are you?

An hour or so lapsed until the next message.

** Babbers: **Never mind. Have at it, old bean.

What the fuck had Babington seen, or thought he saw? Fucksocks.

A brand new message pinged in then:

** Heywood: **Did I dream everything? Just... it's ok to change your mind, you know.

He leapt at his phone and tapped out a message.

*

Charlotte's doubts began the second her door closed behind her. She must've imagined it all. Must've made it up, taken it too far. Taken advantage of the romance of a lovely summer's night by the sea.

He deserved to be given an honourable out. She reached for her phone and used the final 2% battery to fire off a quick message.

In the seconds it took her to plug in the charger a new message arrived:

** The Best Parker:** Kindly tell your self-esteem issues to fuck right off.   
**Me: **That's not kind.  
**The Best Parker: **If you dreamt it, so did I. If _you _want to pretend it didn't happen then I won't stop you. But it did. Will apply tough love if necessary.  
**The Best Parker: **apparently I _will _stop you. Sorry about that.   
**The Best Parker: **Not actually sorry.  
**The Best Parker: **Not sorry about any of it. Best night of my life.

A pause then.

** The Best Parker: **ever.  
**The Best Parker**: Was that a feelings-dump like you were talking about earlier? Sorry.

She bit her lip to avoid smiling too daftly as she typed her own message.

** Me: **Not a dream, then. Thank you. See you in a bit. Have to shower now.  
**The Best Parker: **Feel free to narrate the experience. 

She blushed hard then. He was, she had learnt over the last few hours, an incorrigible flirt once he felt he had permission. It struck her powerfully that he had consciously suppressed his more flirtatious instincts throughout their friendship so far, and she appreciated that very much. Or, she did until_ now_.

She smirked as she replied with one of his favourite remarks:

** Me: **In due course.

In response, he replied with a gif of Elmo fainting. She took that as her cue to shower.

*

Babington and Auntie Sunderland were already eating breakfast when Charlotte arrived. Sidney was nowhere to be seen, nor Crowe, although half a dozen other guests were already up and eating breakfast.

Babington waved her over. 'Ah, Charlotte! Come and sit with us!'

'Are you sure-'

'Of course. Are you hungry?'

She took the seat opposite Babington, not feeling equal to getting too close to formidable Auntie Sun. 'Ravenous. How was your evening after I left?'

'Excellent - good fun. Someone cracked out a bag of marshmallows at one point. Terrible combination with beer, though. Yours?'

'It wasn't bad.' She forced her blushes to retreat with nowt but force of will. 

Babington raised an eyebrow but said nothing. He appeared to know _something _and that made her most uncomfortable. 'Well, the buffet here is one of the best on the South Coast so make the most of it!'

She did. The buffet was a cornucopia of breakfast, from fresh fruit and cereal to beautifully-made hearty English breakfast staples. The smell of freshly-done sausages and bacon was enough to make her mouth water. Charlotte went for a place of buttery scrambled eggs and bacon with a side of toast. 

Indeed, she had a mouthful when Sidney arrived, himself still glistening from a shower, looking like someone who'd had a full night's sleep, not _none_.

'Morning. Need coffee.' He disappeared to the counter then, with no further word or acknowledgement. 

Babington shot her a curious look, which she returned as neutrally as she could. If Sidney was going to pretend nothing was changed, that was fine by her.

He returned in a few minutes with a mug of black coffee and a full English breakfast and took the seat at right angles to Charlotte. 'Did everyone sleep well?'

'Oh yes,' Auntie Sunderland began a long lecture about the quality and detail of her sleep, which allowed Sidney to dig into his food and ignore everyone else.

Except. _Except, _that was definitely his knee nudging hers. A nudge, then a determined press that sent warmth into her skin.

Not a dream. Not a dream. Good. She ate her own food as delicately as she could manage, still sensitive to the notion of eating with a duchess.

Once her plate was empty, she stretched a little. 'Right, I'd better get on. I've got a mani-pedi booked in ten minutes and then I have to go home and make sure Georgiana and Arabella are still alive.'

'Georgiana? The Lambe gel?' Auntie Sunderland enquired. 'Isn't she yours, Sidney?'

He glanced up from his plate, where he had only a little more to consume. 'She's my _ward_, yes.'

'When does she reach her majority?'

'Her birthday is 21st May, so... just under a year.'

'Be glad to be rid of the responsibility, will you?'

He speared the final piece of sausage on his fork. 'I won't be ditching her just because the law says she's turned 18. As long as she needs me, I'm there.' He ate, essentially closing the subject.

The duchess opened her mouth, and Charlotte was certain she had more to say. So, she went to divert the topic a little: 'Gigi is really a very accomplished young woman, but everyone deserves to feel they have a family, someone to care for them.'

'Hear hear!' Babington added, raising his glance of cranberry juice in agreement. 'Auntie Sun was that person for me, you know.'

'Oh?'

'Oh yes. My parents aren't... hands-on, and Auntie Sun is an old softy under that shell. Aren't you, Auntie Sun?'

'I won't swear to that in a court of law, boy.' But, she smiled a little fondly at him. 'Gideon was always the sweetest of his generation.'

'Well,' Charlotte made to finally leave. 'I'll perhaps see you all later before I leave? In the meantime, have a lovely day!'

Her mani-pedi was pleasant enough, but she was much too energised to relax, even with no sleep. She wanted to go _home _even though somehow she feared the spell might break if she left the constructed paradise of the Hall.

She checked out at half-past ten and found Sidney waiting.

'Want a lift back to town? I'm going that way.'

'Thank you.' She let him take her bag and put it on the Aston's backseat but drew the line at having her door opened for her. 

The Aston really was _gorgeous_. The leather seat was soft and smooth and she ran her hand along it as they made their way back to Sanditon. At one point, Sidney's hand came down to rest upon hers. 

'Sorry about earlier. I didn't want to-'

'I understand. Nor did I.'

He took her hand and lifted it to examine the manicure. 'Purple, very nice.'

'Thanks, but it's not for your benefit.'

'Good.'

'What now, Sidney?'

'We find out what Gigi and Bella were up to last night and-'

'I don't mean that.'

'I know. I... don't know. I think I'd like to snog you some more and then eventually ravish you entirely. And then... whatever we want, Charlotte.'

'Right. But... you're going back to London in a few days-'

'It's not far.'

'I know but...' She sighed. 'Sorry. I just... I can't help leaping forward to the future. I just... never mind.'

'Same,' he admitted. 'But for now, there's WhatsApp and Skype and trains to London and a perfectly good road. I don't want to rush you.'

'I don't want to rush _ you _.'

'Good.'

'Good.'

He pulled up outside 1 Waterloo Terrace. The building was still intact and had apparently not gone on fire at any time in the last twenty-four hours. All glazing was intact. So far, so good.

'Want to come up?' she asked. 'To see Gigi, I mean.'

'I am curious.'

They went up to Flat D and found Gigi and Arabella still in their pyjamas watching _ My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic _on Netflix and eating cereal from the biggest bowls they could find.

'Morning,' Charlotte called out. 

Gigi barely looked up from the screen. 'Hey, Charlotte. We used all your milk. Sorry.'

'No worries. Did you have a good night? Have you slept?'

'It was great! And-' Gigi looked up, seeing Sidney looming behind Charlotte. She looked between the two of them and laughed. 'Aha!'

'What "aha"?" he asked.

'You DID IT!'

'What?'

'You _did it _!' At this declaration from Gigi, Arabella squealed.

'I don't know what you mean,' Charlotte basically lied. 'Or what notion you have in your head this time.'

Gigi considered them again. 'OK, maybe not the big _it_. But there's like a whole... aura around you. Sidney's _not _scowling. Hell... the grim old dickhead's _smiling_!'

'Language, Georgiana!' he barked, the authority of which was totally undermined by the smirk he could not stop.

Gigi waved her spoon in triumph. 'I _knew _it!'

'We did guess ages ago,' Arabella ventured. 'Sorry.'

'This subject is _closed_, Gigi. Respect boundaries.'

'Oh, I do, but-'

'Georgiana. If not mine, Charlotte's.'

'Fine. But you totally just admitted there are shared boundaries.'

Charlotte could not help snorting at that one.

He crossed his arms over his chest. 'You have a filthy mind, Heywood.'

'Takes one to know one.'

'I _ told _you they were my OTP,' Georgiana didn't bother whispering to Arabella.

'Yeah. It was pretty obvious the other day.'

'We're right here!' Sidney threw his hands up in defeat. 'Fine. Get up and give Charlotte her space back.'

'Why, do _ you _ need it?'

Charlotte, this time: 'Gigi!'

'Sorry.'

'I just need to sleep. On my own. I'm glad you had a good night. When's your sister picking you up, Bella?'

'Not till after lunch.'

'We're going to sunbathe a bit,' Gigi said. 'Once we can be bothered to move.'

'You really don't need to rush,' Charlotte told them. 'But I'm going to sleep now.'

'Didn't you sleep at all?' Bella asked, all innocence.

Charlotte raised an eyebrow in challenge. 'Nope.'

Gigi hooted a laugh and descended into giggles.

'Right,' Sidney said. 'I give up. Gigi, don't take the piss with Charlotte's hospitality. I'll be in the Coffee Cabin if you need me.'

Gigi and Arabella spoke in unison: 'Bye Sidney!'

Charlotte hesitated. 'Bye.'

'I'll see you later.' It wasn't a question. 'Sweet dreams.'

'Magnificent ones.'

He grinned. 'Naturally.'

Sidney left quickly then, which was a mercy. Gigi and Arabella looked at her like she was about to spill all the beans to them. They were wrong.

'I'm going to sleep and I'm not going to share a bloody thing with you.'

'Don't need to,' Gigi declared. 'We can guess.'

'For two people not actually related, you and Sidney really share an unbearable smugness. Shall I put the hot water on for you to have showers?'

'We're headed to the beach so nah. But...' Gigi turned serious. 'Thank you for letting us stay. We really appreciate it.'

Arabella nodded her agreement with this.

'Thank you for not trashing my house... and thus proving me right and Sidney Parker _wrong_.' She grinned. 'I appreciate that.'

She left them to their giggles, cereal and _My Little Pony_ to find her rest. Everything else, including Sidney Parker himself, could wait.

*


	23. When Transience Rules

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wotcha folks and Happy New Year! May it bring whatever you wish it to.
> 
> Just a quick bit today. My Christmas was totally mad busy and I tried to write but it just... didn't happen as I hoped it might... so let's post this and get it out of the way to then move on.
> 
> There's a League of Gentlemen ref in there, which is pretty extraordinary as I didn't really watch it, tho Pemberton/Shearsmith etc are awesome.

Sidney went to the Coffee Cabin as intended, but found a tourist family sat at his table. His usual irritation at being denied was, he was hardly surprised to note, rather defanged today.

For once and unusually, none of his family was at the Cabin, which was currently overseen by the assistant manager Deirdre.

'Large gingerbread latte, please.'

'We haven't got any gingerbread syrup-'

'Check in the back of the little cupboard.' He paused. 'Please?'

She hesitated. 'Who wants gingerbread in _August_? Fine.'

He waited while Deirdre retrieved the bottle of syrup he'd hidden away for such non-winter emergencies. and made him his latte, all the while hoping that the tourists might bugger off.

They did not, and he decided sitting inside on such a sunny day was surely a waste. So, he wandered along the beachfront, trying to see in Sanditon what his brother and Charlotte saw in it.

There was some kind of charm to the promenade and the piecemeal way in which it had developed. The eastern end was Georgian: all clean lines, symmetry and greystone facades; the middle of the street was fussier, more varied mid-Victorian, except the space taken up by the 1930s cinema. The Coffee Cabin in the old railway station sat rather incongruously between the old Victorian section and the western end of the promenade - slapped down where the promenade had ended at the time. This western end was a mix of ugly 1960s wannabe-brutalism, 1990s generic blandness that would be no architectural loss if it disappeared tomorrow. 

The charm was significantly dented by the emptiness and dereliction. When he'd arrived the first time this summer it had struck him intellectually but he now took it personally.

Ever since Sanditon had been a tiny little fishing village with nothing but sandy beaches and potential, it had been the Parker family's project and so its success was both their privilege and responsibility. 

Whatever Sidney's personal reasons and their value, in stepping away from Sanditon he had let down generations of Parkers and Sanditon itself. How many generations of ancestors had he disappointed in so doing?

Was there a way for him to love the place? He felt like he probably _had _loved it, once upon a time when he and the world were very young. 

Without realising, Sidney had wandered off the prom and onto the soft sand. His shoes would not come away from this encounter well, but he continued anyway, subconsciously enjoying the effort of staying upright and keeping his coffee from spilling.

Could he at least do his bit from afar? London was where his entire _life _was and, for all its noise and congestion and problems and hair-trigger tempers, he loved it. Wasn't Bedford Place as much his home as Sanditon?

Yet, Charlotte was _here _and he could no more picture her in London than on the moon. He was hardly ready to pledge his undying love or anything else along the spectrum after "first proper date" but he'd be lying if it hadn't crossed his mind. His heart had skipped several dozen steps ahead before, too- he cut that thought off instantly.

Anyway, as Charlotte had questioned: what would happen when his little holiday was over?

His phone buzzed. He resolutely ignored the climbing number on the Outlook icon in favour of the WhatsApp message freshly received.

** Georgiana**: nearly at Coffee Cabin. You owe us muffins.  
**Georgiana**: Arabella prefers cookies. 

Sidney rolled his shoulders - he ought not to have lain on damp grass or sat up in a bar all night - and returned to the Cabin just as Gigi and Arabella reached it.

'Haven't you just eaten?' he asked.

Gigi sighed. 'Yeah, _first _breakfast.'

He sighed as though he was the most put-upon human in Britain. 'Cheeky hobbitses. Come on, then.' He held the door open.

'I like this Sidney,' Gigi said as she ordered _exactly _what she wanted and Sidney held out his Apple Watch to pay. 'Easily persuaded.'

'It won't last.'

'Of course, it won't, Gollum.' Gigi took a bite of muffin. 'Can we sit outside until Bella's sister gets here?'

Sidney glanced over at his table - the bloody tourists were still there - and sighed. 'Whatever you want, I really don't care.'

As they found a place on the beach, it struck him that it was very difficult to feel attached to a place when it belonged to the tourists who came but did not stay.

How could one ever feel at home in a place whose population was transient, variable and not at all concerned about it beyond the temporary entertainment it would give them until home time?

Wasn't he just as bad: dipping in and out as he felt like, really and truly a guest and _not from round here_.

As for Charlotte... _Charlotte _was _not _actually from "round here" and yet she belonged about as much as anyone ever had or would.

Fucking _typical_. He felt some of his previous frustration against her rise up, but it lasted only as long as his brain needed to remind him of the feel of her lips.

It wasn't that he was specifically envious of _her_. It wasn't that he hated her - not hate at all - but he was a little jealous of her ability to fit in.

As well-liked as he supposedly was, as popular as he was in what called itself society, Sidney Parker did _not _fit in. It was not that he was taciturn or introverted; he was neither. Sidney Parker was no Mr Darcy, scowling at windows. He was not _personable_, but he could be charming when occasion and wish arose. He was terrible at small talk, though he could speak on any number of subjects with ease and expertise.

Sidney was, he knew, the kind of man who many people thought they knew, might even class themselves as friends and yet... they only knew whatever persona he presented. _Man about town _Parker; _Investment Guru _Parker; charmer Parker; _lads lads lads _Parker-

A screwed up napkin hit him in the face. 'What the-'

Gigi and Arabella were staring at him.

'Where did you go?' Gigi asked, nudging his foot with hers. 'You had an out of body experience or something.'

'It's called _thinking, _Miss Lambe - you would be well-advised to give it a try one of these days.'

'Thinking _hard_.'

'Gigi.'

'What? I'm just concerned. Even a man of your advanced years shouldn't be losing consciousness in the middle of the day.'

The only useful response to this was to ignore it, so he did. He was grateful for the distraction their chatter gave until Arabella's phone buzzed and she announced Jemima's arrival.

Gigi and Arabella took their time reaching Jemima's car - a nippy little pink Fiat 500 because of course - and Sidney followed their lead.

'Hello, Sidney.'

'Hey.' He kept his hands in his pockets and nodded his greeting.

'When are you back in London?'

'Monday.'

'Same. Perhaps we can catch up over coffee some time.'

Fuck. What was he supposed to say to that? 'Uh, yeah. Some time.'

Jemima's crafted brows furrowed a moment. 'If your girlfriend doesn't mind of course.'

'Girlfriend?'

Gigi snickered. 

'Oh,' Jemima blinked conspicuously. 'Was that girl at the theme park _not_ your girlfriend? I assumed that or the nanny-'

'Charlotte? She's a great friend to all of us.'

Gigi scowled at him. 

'Ah, I see. Well... I'll see you soon, I'm sure. Ta-ta for now.'

As soon as Jemima and Arabella were out of sight, Gigi smacked him in the arm.

'Ow! Georgiana-'

'All you had to say was _yes_, you fucking idiot!'

'What?'

Gigi's posture switched as she impersonated Jemima: '"Oh, was that girl at the theme park not your girlfriend?" God Sidney, all you had to say was _yes._'

'Well, it's not for me to say, is it?' he barked back. 'And I will remind you _ again _ to mind your own bloody business!'

'I care about _my friend_! If you're not serious, I'm going to smash your bollo-'

'ENOUGH!'

Gigi's jaws snapped shut but her eyes blazed. 

'It is precisely_ because_ I'm serious that I am not going to witter on to people like _Jemima _about my fucking feelings!'

'I knew it-'

'Gigi!'

'Sorry.'

'I don't know what's going to happen except that I'm going back to London tomorrow afternoon. I don't know if I'm capable- never mind. Just let the grown-ups _be_, will you?'

'As soon as I find one, I will.' Gigi stuck her tongue out at him. 'Oh hey, Charlotte!'

Sure enough, Charlotte was in the process of closing her front door. She evidently hadn't really slept, but she'd changed into fresh clothes. It was just a Joe Strummer And The Mescaleros t-shirt and a pair of shorts but his brain short-circuited at the sight of her anyway.

Charlotte hesitated a moment, then bounded over with a bright smile. 'Hello!'

'Hey, Charlotte! Sleep well?'

'I managed about 45 minutes and then gave up. Never mind.'

'Sleep is for wimps,' he joked.

'There speaks the voice of rampant capitalism.'

'One Joe Strummer t-shirt and she's a socialist.'

'Or maybe I'm a Joe fan because I'm a socialist?'

He grinned, muscles aching, at the lightness of their banter. 'What are your plans for the rest of the day?'

'I don't have any in particular. Gigi?'

'Me? Oh! I said I'd go back to the house and help Mary with- stuff.'

'Stuff?'

'Yeah, you know. Life stuff. Bye!' Gigi sprinted away before any objections could be raised.

Which left Sidney shifting on his feet like he was fourteen and barely used to his lankiness, let alone anything else. 'So.'

Charlotte's eyebrow quirked. How was _she _so bloody composed? 'So.'

He grinned then, earning a rosy blush and darting glance from Charlotte. Not so bloody composed after all. 'What do you fancy?'

The double entendre was not lost on Charlotte. 'It's a summer Saturday in Sanditon-'

'Spare me the fucking alliteration, Heywood.'

'Cycling?'

'I hate you right now.'

'No, you don't. I meant it as a joke but perhaps-'

'After a night of no sleep? Sounds dangerous.'

'True. But Sanditon currently feels very small.'

'I know what you mean. Want to escape for a bit?'

'Perhaps.'

'Get in the car, Heywood.'

'Where?'

'I don't know. Just get in the car and we'll decide on the way.'

The smile she gave was dazzling. 'All right.'


	24. A Lovely View

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick one for you while I figure out what the frak comes next. Or rather, exactly how to get to the next bit without being really dull. Because neither of them are ready to suddenly leap to a Happy Ever After no matter how much we might want them to. They only started snogging the night before, after all.
> 
> Also, when it comes to writing and to ensure I'm not getting any hopes up: I don't write romance or sex scenes in detail. Sorry if that's disappointing, but it's not my bag and at best it would be 'tab a into slot b' levels of crap so I'm going to let you fill in those blanks for yourselves. Or, as the gag in Porridge once went when discussing a romantic book that might be too risque for the prisoners: "it's all in the best possible taste. They always turn the light out."

The Aston roared out of Sanditon as soon as both seatbelts were fastened. Rather than turning onto the main road, Sidney took the twisting, turning country lane that had been the route northwards before the A-road took over in the 80s. 

Charlotte was happy enough staring at the view for a while. An old redbrick house, more substantial than a cottage but not quite so extensive as a full-on manor, caught her eye as they rounded one particular corner. It was half-hidden by unkempt hedges and what she could see looked half-ruined.

'That looks interesting.'

'That's the old Parker House.'

'Of course, it is,' she smirked. 'I realised some time ago that if I just assume everything in the vicinity of Sanditon belongs to the Parkers, I'm right more than I'm wrong.'

'We sold it generations ago. I don't know who owns it now, but it's been unoccupied for a few years.'

'It looked quite pretty.'

'Yeah, if you like those tumbledown old piles of stone. Which I presume you do?'

'Yep! Now...' she turned to look at him now. 'Where are we going?'

'Dunno yet.'

'Are you trying to think of somewhere that has no possible association with any of your family or... your past?'

'How'd you know?'

'Because I was thinking the same thing.'

'I think we'd have to go beyond Eastbourne for that. Do you want to _ do _something or just hang out?'

'Honestly? I don't know. My mind is just... reeling.'

'Yeah? Me too.' He sighed. 'Right then.'

About half a mile ahead, he turned off the road onto what was best called a dirt path. He stopped the car before it grew too wild.

'Where are you taking me? Right now this feels like the start of some murder mystery film.'

He leaned forward to look through the windscreen at the rising hill ahead. 'Up there. It's not that far.'

'All right.'

Calling it a hill seemed, at first glance, to be over-egging the pudding but Charlotte fell into step with Sidney as they walked up the path. A fence ran alongside, keeping them out of the trees that ran up the hillside - or perhaps was holding something else _in _the field.

She saw, after a moment more, a herd of cows further along the field.

'Are we meant to be here?'

'Public right of way. And even if not, I know the farmer.'

'Course you do.'

'Jethro was in the year below me at school.'

'You're not telling me his name is actually _Jethro_?'

'Yep. Honest. His dad's a big prog rock fan. This way-' Sidney turned to a stile set in the fence. He climbed over it with ease, his long legs taking it as no more an obstacle than a low kerb, perhaps. 

Charlotte was rather shorter and was obliged actually to climb over it. She yelped a little when she was on the other side, and he took her firmly by the waist and lifted her down.

'Sorry, I-'

'You just surprised me, that's all.' She grinned, hoping to set him at ease.

Though not terribly high, it was a steep slope, and they scrambled up, at times having to grab onto the weedy trees to stop sliding back down. He took her hand and hauled her up at one point, only to find himself on the receiving end a moment later.

'This is fun,' she said, feeling rather hot, sweaty and muddy. 'But I really fail to- holy shit.'

Charlotte reached the summit and nearly fell down again. From the approach, it had seemed like an ordinary little hill. At the top, she discovered that the other side ran much further down, towards the coast, and they were, in fact, high above Sanditon.

This, she realised, was an outcrop she'd vaguely noticed before, but as she'd mostly focused on the cliffs and shore, it had not really registered in her brain.

'Sidney... this is...'

'Dunno why I didn't think of it before. Like it?'

'Like? I wish I could really draw, so I could capture this... it looks like a model village from here. And the sea... There's Sanditon Hall, too. The woods are more substantial than you think, aren't they?'

'You can even see the remnants of the old pier in the water.'

Sure enough, the fragments of caissons and posts were darker shadows in the clear water.

They stood a minute or so just _looking_. Sidney then dared to reach for her hand, and Charlotte made no objection. Eventually, having seen her fill, she turned her attention to him.

'This place is lovely. Thank you for sharing it with me.'

'Haven't come up here for years.'

'Sidney, you haven't done most things in Sanditon for years.'

'Even by my own standards. I... I don't think I've ever come up with anyone.'

By this, she took to understand _with Eliza, _and she did not ask him to clarify. 'It's lovely.'

'So are you.' He turned over the hand he was holding and pressed a kiss to it. 'Want to sit?'

'Last time I sat down on some grass with you, Parker, I wasn't allowed to stand up for quite some time.'

'How sad for you.' He knelt down and tugged her along with him. 'We can go back if-'

'Shush.' Feeling bold, she lay back on the grass and pulled him into a kiss that had them both gasping for breath at its end.

They remained there for some time, not quite going too far, although Charlotte knew that she was surely testing his resolve. She was inexperienced in some respects, but no ignorant maiden and could guess at his feelings. Hell, she could feel plenty through the thin layers of clothing that provided the only separation between them.

And then, her brain freaked the _fuck _out, and she froze. To his credit, Sidney picked up on her changed attitude instantly and stilled his hands and mouth.

His dark eyes took her in. 'Too much?'

She just nodded, feeling like a foolish, naive _child_. 'Sorry. I really don't mean to-'

He pressed a finger to his lips. 'It's all right.'

Charlotte sat up, feeling all the blood in her body rush to her head in a deep blush. Given how much of it had pooled around her sacrum, it had a long way to travel. 'I don't... I don't mean to... to...'

'I know.' He kissed her again, this time more in reassurance than ardour. 'I... Look, I have a reputation I'm sure you're aware of, and it's... well, I earned it. But that's not what's going on here. I...' 

He shifted so that he didn't have to look quite so directly into her eyes. 'This isn't a random tinder date based entirely on fucking. I actually _like _you, Heywood. Very much like. So yeah, I can control myself, and you can keep doing _ exactly _ what you were doing.'

'Yeah?'

'Yeah. You know, for someone who started snogging about seventeen hours ago, you're extraordinarily good at it.'

'I'm good at learning things quickly when I want to.' She blushed again. 'Sidney...'

'Yeah?'

'Don't think I don't _want _to. I really, really do. I just...' She sighed. 'You go home tomorrow.'

'God, if only I could think of any reason to come back as soon as humanly possible. Like Gigi or the niblings or the cinema or... just _ you _.' He played with the hem of her t-shirt, and her abdominal muscles clenched a moment as his knuckles grazed her skin. 'Maybe a little distance is good.'

'How?'

'Because that way, you'll miss me so much that you'll be putty in my hands by the time I get back.'

'Oh fuck off, Parker.'

'But seriously... some distance means we'll have to take things a little slower and I think that's... that's what you deserve. You deserve to be treated like a queen, Charlotte. That's what I want to do. I don't just want to... I dunno...'

'Fuck me on the side of a hill before skipping out of town?'

'Yeah, basically. I want to give you more than that. Really, I do.'

'I believe you. When will you be back, do you think?'

'Friday, unless the universe conspires against me. Which it will, now that I've said that. But... there's Skype and WhatsApp and... whatever you want, really. You can pretend I don't exist all week for all I care.'

'From the moment I met you, I haven't _ever _been able to pretend you don't exist.' She leaned into him, luxuriating in the warmth from his chest. 'But you're right. A little space will be... sensible.'

'You're a very sensible person.'

'I am usually. Someone's been sending me loopy.'

'I know that feeling.' He ran his hands along her torso, making her shiver. 'I don't want to go back. For the first time since I can remember, I just want to stay _here. _ You did that to me, minx.'

He twisted so that she was on her back again. His breath was warm on her face as he kissed her again.

'I'd better make sure Milo wants me on the cinema project,' he said after a moment. 'And then I'll _ have _to be here all the time.'

'Where would you stay? Even your bank balance won't like a permanent residence at the hall.'

'Well,' he pretended to think about this. 'I could just move back into my old flat.'

'And the current tenant?'

'I'm fairly confident I can convince her of the wisdom of such a plan.' Another kiss, pressed to her collarbone, made her vision swim.

'Cocky sod.'

'True.'

'You speak on the one hand about taking things slowly,' she managed to breathe out. 'And on the other about _ moving in with me _.'

He now kissed the bare skin around her navel. How and when had he managed that with her shirt without her noticing? 'I'm not very sensible around you, either. Does it sound terrible?'

'Not terrible, no. I think it a very-' she sucked in a sharp breath at what he did next. '_Practical _idea.'

Sidney, being more caught up in other concerns at that moment, did not answer and she did not mind.

*


	25. Say It With Flours

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay - i'm afraid these kind of gaps between chapters are more likely than daily or every-other-daily updates for the foreseeable future. Capitalism sucks.
> 
> But, I hope you enjoy this one!

After scrambling back down the hill to the Aston, they hesitated before getting back inside. Partly so that Sidney could press her against the door to give several long, deep kisses that left her legs absolutely without weight-bearing capability... and somewhat to take just a little more time before breaking the spell and returning to the real world.

'We should do something else,' he said as the car moved back onto the road. 'Something to... I dunno.'

'Establish an alibi?'

'Maybe... yeah.' He reached over to squeeze her knee. 'We don't have to. It's up to you.'

'It's not that I want to keep anything a secret,' she said. 'Just that... god, your family are going to be _unbearably _over the top about it.'

'Yep.'

'I need to go to the big Sainsbury's to stock up on some things.'

'Need a ride?'

*

'Sidney did_ errands _in an Aston Martin?' Mary asked. It was several hours later when they arrived at Trafalgar House. If the barely-suppressed smirk on her face was any indication, Gigi had clearly not been slow to provide a _Sidlotte _update.

He would kill her, except he'd promised her father not to.

'Wasn't that nice of him?' Charlotte asked, and he could only admire the blitheness of the not-quite-a-lie. 'So I offered to buy him a cup of coffee at Costa-'

'You went to a _brand name _coffee shop? Treason!' Mary's joke allowed them a neat way of shifting the subject, and the matter was dropped - for the time being.

'Where's Gigi?' Charlotte asked. 'I got something for her.'

'She wanted to run to the library before it closes for the weekend. What did you get?'

'An NDA,' Sidney muttered.

'Oh, just a little jokey thing.' Charlotte pulled a copy of the latest _My Little Pony _magazine from her bag. 'I thought it would-'

The Parker children, having realised that both Uncle Sidney _and _Charlotte had arrived, barrelled at them with the concentrated force of three small torpedos.

'Uncle Sidney!' Alicia jumped at him. 'Mummy said we can make biscuits if we're good and we have been good ALL day!'

'All day!' Henry echoed from his place hanging from Charlotte's arm. 

'Have you indeed? I think I ought to get verification.'

'They have been good,' Mary confirmed. 'We were about to start.'

'Shall I take over?' Charlotte mumbled to Mary. 'You must be sick of kitchens.'

Mary didn't hide her relief. 'That's sweet of you. Parkers!'

They fell into line, Sidney included. 

'Behave for Charlotte. I am going to have a long hot bath.'

'We'll make you the best biscuits!' Jenny promised. 'And Uncle Sidney will do all the washing up.'

Sidney huffed. 'I did _not_ agree to that!'

Jenny rolled her eyes. 'But you _will_, won't you?'

He rolled his own eyes almost up to the ceiling. 'I am your servant, Miss Parker. Lead the way.'

*

Almost an hour later, the Parker kitchen, the Parkers and Charlotte were all covered in a fine sheen of flour. The worktops were covered in messy bowls, empty milk cartons, butter wrappers and sugar. A set of food colouring bottles sat waiting to be put away.

Most of all, the smell of baking biscuits rose up, tempting all who came nearby.

Henry had taken up a station by the oven, often checking through the window.

'Henry love,' Charlotte said. 'I promise we're timing it. If you wash your hands and face, you can play while I keep an eye on them.

'OK.' He climbed up on his little stool and let her help him de-flour himself as much as possible.

Then, the kitchen was left to Sidney and Charlotte. The former took one look at the mess and wasted no time in crossing the room to wrap his arms around her. She rested her head on his shoulder and sighed.

'They're hard work.' Sidney mumbled. 'At least they're cute.'

'A neat description of all the Parkers, I feel.'

'Ha, you're funny. A funny girl.'

'True.' She looked up and leaned up on her toes to kiss him. 

The next thing either of them knew, Charlotte was pinned up against the fridge as the front door slammed.

'I'm back!'

They had just enough time to separate and start busily tidying before Gigi burst in. 'Hey! Sanditon Library is rubbish. I had to order _three_ of the books I need for next- Oh, I interrupted something, I'm sorry.'

'Course you didn't.' Charlotte squeezed some washing up liquid into the sink.

'Try again, Charlotte. Try again with the knowledge that Sidney has a weird blue streak on the back of his neck, and _you _have two floury patches on your arse that look _exactly _like Sidney Parker-sized handprints. I mean, I'm no forensic investigator, but the evidence is damning.'

They looked to the other. Sidney laughed as Charlotte's face burned. He reached into the sink to wash the blue away as she tried, without much success, to dust the flour off her shorts. 

He shrugged. 'Guilty as charged. Sue me.'

'You're cute.' Gigi reached into the fridge and retrieved a J20 for herself. 'So _cute_. And what's that in the oven? Smells awesome.'

'Gingerbread. Want to help the niblings decorate them?' Charlotte waved a hand at the icing they'd already mixed.

'That sounds fun. I'm going to talk to Bella. Laters!'

Alone again, Sidney and Charlotte really did do their clean-up. 

'Sorry,' he whispered, close to her ear. 'I didn't mean to embarrass you.'

'It's _Gigi_. She'll find a way to embarrass you one way or another. This way, I get a kiss out of it.'

He smiled, just a little. 'That's true.' To prove it, he leant down and kissed the exposed skin on her neck. 

'I'm going home tomorrow,' he said then, echoing her comment earlier.

'Yeah. It's OK.'

'I don't want to. I mean, I really, _really _don't want to.'

'It's OK.'

He leaned and rested his forehead on hers. 'No, it isn't.'

'You'll be back before you know it.'

*

In reality, time slowed down by 500% the moment he drove away from Sanditon. Sunday night was dull. Monday passed so slowly Sidney started wondering if Babington had fucked with the office clocks... and the computer, and his phone.

'Now you know how I feel,' Babington said, thrusting a hot mug of tea at him on Monday afternoon.

'What?'

'Being away from Sanditon. Or rather, specific members of its population.'

'What are you on about?'

'You've checked the time sixteen times in the last minute, and if you check your phone for messages too many more times, you'll develop repetitive strain injury.'

'Bab-'

'I saw you and Charlotte, you know. Lying on the grass staring at the stars like you're in some terrible Nicholas Sparks movie. God, the look on your face right now, you'd think I'd found you _in flagrante delicto_. Did I nearly-'

'Shut up, Babington.'

'Ah. So I_ did_-'

'You are my dearest friend in the world, and I love you, but I _will _break all your teeth-'

'I surrender! Fucking hell, Parker.'

'You and Esther-'

'Oh no, if I don't get to gossip about you and Charlotte-'

'I love her, Gid. It's fucking ludicrous, but I do.'

'Ah. It's serious. I didn't realise... though I should've. You wouldn't have done that weird little mating ritual with anyone else.'

'Weird little mating ritual?'

'All the banter and just _being nice. _You don't do that, Parker. You seduce a woman, screw her brains out and then leave.'

'Not Charlotte.'

'I believe you. So, what are you going to do?'

'I'm going to finish this Board paper, then I'm going to go home and count down the minutes until I can fuck off back to Sanditon.'

'Not so fast, Sid.'

'What?'

'Friday night.'

'What about Friday night?'

Babington sighed. 'College alumni night, Chez Babs. You promised you'd be there.'

'Oh fucking-'

'Invite Charlotte up if you want, but I am_ not_ hosting that crap on my own.'

'Get Esther-'

'Already asked, already denied. She's not as fluffy and kind as Charlotte. And you _owe _me, Parker.'

'What for?'

'Ha! I'll write you a fucking list. But joking aside, I had Auntie Sunderland last weekend and this now. I will punch someone if I have to be personable for much longer.'

Sidney really looked at his friend now. He seemed tired, a little worn around the eyes. 'You need a holiday.'

'Just come back from one.'

'You know you don't _have _to do this job? You could quit right now and go home and look after the family pile-'

'Not while _that_ woman is still there.'

'Fair point. Looks like we're both stuck here until at least Friday, then?'

'Yep. Oh, a courier brought a packet from Milo Shaw, seems like. Want me to get Sasha to bring it in?'

'Got to finish this first.

'There's a good lad. We'll make it after all.'

'To Friday, at least.'

'To Friday.' Babington sighed. 'See you later.'

'Later, Babs.' Sidney returned to the Board paper for a full thirty seconds.

** Me: **Want to come up on Friday. Babs hosting a college drinks thing. Will be really fucking boring.  
** Heywood: **Sounds totally unmissable.

A moment passed.

** Heywood: **But yes, of course. 

Another moment.

** Heywood: **Where will I stay?  
** Me: ** Well, let me think a second... I can think of at least two options.  
** Heywood: **Two?  
** Me: ** Up to you whether you share a house or a room with me.  
** Heywood**: Well, let me think a second... You owe me a trip to the British Museum, too.  
**Me**: That's true. Can you come up in time for lunch?  
**Heywood:** Yep.  
**Me:** Then, lunch is on me. I know just the place near the Museum. Then we can go to the boring college thing.  
**Heywood:** Cool.   
**Me:** It's really going to be so shit.  
**Heywood:** We can find a way to make it bearable.  
**Me:** You already have.  
**Me:** By saying you'll come.  
**Heywood:** Yeah, I understood.  
**Me:** Just wanted to be sure you knew.  
**Heywood**: Shouldn't you be working right now?  
**Me:** Shouldn't you?  
**Heywood:** I am. I'm at this _huge _table by the window in the CC and I was just thinking how nice it was to sit there without being bothered and lo and behold, here you are anyway,  
**Me:** Touche. I'll fuck off then.  
**Heywood:** Please do.

Another pause.

**Heywood:** Don't feel you can't call me later, though.   
**Me:** Seven?  
**Heywood:** OK.

She then sent a heart eyes emoji. He didn't use emojis. He didn't like them... and yet somehow his phone showed he'd sent a kiss emoji in reply. How weird.


	26. In Zone One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry again for the delays and thanks so much for the lovely comments - I really appreciate it!
> 
> Am at work so will pick up any errors and format etc later!

Charlotte spent her Friday morning at Sanditon Hall. First, at Spin class. Then at the spa, where she blasted half a month's pay on a set of treatments to get herself into a state in which she felt able to meet Sidney.

She hadn't shared a bed with a member of the opposite sex since the time in the first year of uni when six of her mates had bunked down in Bobby's room rather than wait out a fire alarm in their halls. 

This was not the same thing at _all. _ She'd requested Friday afternoon - and Monday, just in case - as annual leave, so as soon as the clock struck twelve, she was off to the station with her overnight bag slung over her shoulder.

The train crawled along. It was Southern Railways, so it wasn't even just her impatient imagination making everything slow.

** The Best Parker: **Ping me when you get to Victoria. Then get the Victoria line to King's Cross and the Piccadilly Line to Russell Square.  
**Me: ** Really? TFL Website says to go to Oxford Circus, then change onto the red line and go to Tottenham court road.  
**The Best Parker: **That works. I will meet you at the Museum portico.  
**Me: ** OK.

At last and finally, the train pulled into Victoria station and Charlotte fought her way through the early afternoon travellers to reach the Underground.

She really hadn't been to London much, and the tube was a confusion of coloured lines, strange interchanges and oddly-sited stations that she didn't dare admit to not really understanding. Still, the journey to Tottenham Court Road was not tricky, and she was aboveground again without too much in the way of inconvenience.

It was a noisy, dirty, crowded corner at the wrong end of Oxford Street, but the signs to the Museum were easy enough to follow. Past Primark and McDonalds, Charlotte crossed the wide, momentarily empty road and soon enough, the domed Museum stood ahead.

It was a _ginormous _sprawl of a building: sturdy and confident in its funded-by-imperialism supremacy even when it was crowded by garishly-dressed tourists with camera phones on selfie-sticks and coffee vans selling half-a-thimble of coffee for the reasonable price of one's first-born child.

Inside the gates, a white tent stood between her and Sidney, and she was obliged to have her bags checked by a security guard who was creditably cheerful given the monotony of her job and the length of her shift.

Charlotte hefted her rucksack onto her back again and strode along the side of the building towards the front entrance, feeling her nerves rise as her heartbeat began to thud hard against her ribs at the thought of seeing Sidney again after almost four-and-a-half whole days.

Tourists meandered and mingled around the steps, taking pictures, consulting guidebooks and maps and phones and generally getting in her bloody way. Where was _Sidney_?

Ah! There he stood, hands in pockets, leaning against a stone pillar at the top of the broad steps. His gaze roamed around the crowd, evidently looking for her.

At sight of her, Sidney stood up straight, grinned and flipped her a quick salute. 'Heywood.'

'Parker.'

They stood for a moment, just a little too distant, awkward and hesitant.

He held his hand out to her. 'Shall we go in?'

She took his hand. 'Yes, please.'

'Want me to take your bag?'

'S'ok.'

'Sure?'

'And certain. Lead the way.'

They wove a path through the assembled, milling tourists into the Museum and into the Great Court, where Sidney paused to let Charlotte take in the magnitude of the building and the glass roof.

'I think,' she said after a moment of breathless wonder, 'I still prefer James' version at the Hall.'

Sidney smirked.' It's prettier, I suppose. What do you want to see first?'

'The Rosetta Stone.'

'Follow me.'

It was evident that Sidney knew the Museum well as he led her without hesitation to the Rosetta Stone.

'It's pretty small,' she said, bending closer to see the script carved into its blackness. 'But rather lovely.'

They remained amongst the stones of antiquity then: scarab beetles and busts and Ramesses II.

'I remember him from our school visit,' she told Sidney, peering up into the unseeing, all-seeing eyes of an Egyptian king-god. 'Lucy thought he was terrifying, but I found him fascinating.'

'Look upon my works, ye mighty, and tremble,' he replied. He put his arm around her shoulder and tugged her a little closer than ordinary pals might ordinarily remain. 'Sounds like Tom.'

'No Sanditon talk,' Charlotte decreed, finding she was unexpectedly determined to have Sidney all to herself - for a day at least.

'Fine by me.'

They meandered then, with no particular plan but to take in the sights. They visited Hellenic Greece, Alexander and the Elgin Marbles; the Assyrians and their five-legged sphinxes; Africa and Islam through the ages... and all the other things the British had looted over their centuries of imperial domination.

After an uncharacteristically short time, Charlotte grew restless. Why were they here? It was a warm, sunny day. She had _Sidney _to herself - why were they still paying lip service to the excuse for her visit?

She pointed this out with a certain amount of embarrassed blushing, and he rewarded her with a kiss to the back of her hand (that he had not let go of since _at least _456BCE) and suggested the lunch he'd promised her.

'How'd you find this place?' she asked, taking in its red-and-white checked tablecloths, the wine-in-a-basket and pine furniture, and wondering if they'd walked through a portal to the 1970s. It was late in the lunch period, so there weren't many people still eating, but it was evidently a popular place despite its half-hidden location.

'My parents used to bring us here.' Sidney waved at the family-sized table by the window. 'At least once a month, we'd go to the Museum for a bit, my mum would insist on us learning at least two new things... and then we'd come here for spaghetti bolognese or lasagne or something while they had proper Italian food.'

A tall, wiry woman with a sheaf of salt-and-pepper hair saw them come in and waved exuberantly from across the room. 'Ah, Sidney!'

'Hey, Zun. Table for lunch?'

'You don't make a reservation like a normal person? Who do you think you are?'

'Your_ best customer ever, _quote-unquote?'

'We're not busy yet, but you'll have to eat quick. Late business lunch coming in at half two. A dozen suits.'

'Sounds good. Zun, this is Charlotte, a dear friend of the family.'

"Zun" looked between the two of them several times, assessing and curious. 'OK. Nice to meet you, Charlotte.'

'Sidney said the food here is amazing.'

'It is. Sit. You want your usual, Siderato?'

'Yes, please.'

'What's your usual?'

Zun whacked him lightly with a menu. 'Caesar Salad, the giant wimp. You want a menu, Charlotte?'

'I'll have whatever you think is the best thing today.'

'See? There's someone who isn't afraid to try something different every now and then.' Zun stormed back to the kitchen on her mission, leaving Sidney to show Charlotte to their table, tucked away in a corner, apart from the prying eyes of all six people still in the restaurant.

'Zun, eh?'

'She's... Well, Zun.'

'I never thought of the details of your life here in London. I just thought... there's Sanditon and there's _not _Sanditon. I've never seen you exist in this world so... it's not bad, just weird.'

He reached across the table to twine his fingers with hers. 'It's not much, really. I work, I come and eat here a couple of times a week.'

'What's your social life like? You're _Sidney Parker_, after all.'

'I schmooze for work.' He poured them both a glass of water. 'I do my best work when we're sitting in a bar instead of an office.'

'Like Milo.'

'Exactly so. But it means my social life isn't really downtime.'

'And women?'

Sidney had been about to take a sip of water and spluttered. 'Well, I-'

'Is there a posh-people specific tinder? To keep the hoi polloi out of the way?'

'I couldn't possibly comment.'

'All right.'

'It... as fun as it can be, it's a shallow way to move through the world. For a long time, I convinced myself that it's what I wanted and that I was the great Casanova of our age because that meant I didn't have to think about my heart being broken.'

'And?'

'And it's wearying. I try not to view women as objects, but it doesn't protect me from being seen in that same way.'

'True.' She squeezed his fingers gently. 'You don't have to tell me-'

'I won't lie to you, Charlotte. The number is in the hundreds, at least.'

'Right.' She cleared her throat. 'So what? Unless you need to tell me about any infections or diseases, it's not my business.'

'It is, though. I don't... I can't remember what it is to be in a real relationship. I don't-'

'Well, I don't know either so why don't we just do it and see what happens? If you want, I mean.'

Sidney almost wrenched her hand across the table. 'I_ do _want. Very much so.'

'Good. Me too.'

Silence then, a little awkward. 'I have a guest room made up for you at home.'

'Whatever for?'

'You. If you want-'

'_Siderato, _I'm not going to promise you anything else... I don't know that I can, yet. But I want to know what it's like to wake up next to you.'

Sidney's jaw dropped a little. 'Yeah?'

'Yes. Haven't I given you enough clues? I thought after last night-'

He went very red. 'Now, I've never done _that_ with anyone before.'

'I didn't see the appeal, you know.' Charlotte forced herself to feel as casual as humanly possible about their unscheduled, unexpected foray into FaceTime sex. 'I do now. I was _mortified _at first. Honestly, thank you for being sweet and patient with me.'

'Patient? I thought I was a total arsehole.'

'Nope.' She sipped at her water as she tried to stop a broad smile splitting her face. 'Just the right amount of pushy, I thought. And educational.'

Sidney howled with laughter. 'Well, I know that education is important to you.'

Zun arrived with their food: an almost-plain Caesar Salad for Parker; seabass for Heywood.

They ate quietly and quickly, having tacitly agreed to hurry up any and all activities that got in the way of them reaching the solitude of Bedford Place.

The house was only a handful of streets away. Charlotte tried to pretend she wasn't impressed - this was some of the best real estate in town.

'Ancestors,' Sidney said with a shrug. 'I didn't do it.'

'But you probably could?'

'Er...' He appeared to do some maths in his head. 'Maybe?'

She rolled her eyes. 'Rich people.'

'How dare you! I'm not _rich_. I, milady, am _wealthy_.'

'If you say so, Parker.' 

They paused inside the front door long enough to take off their shoes.

'Want the tour?'

'Yes, please.'

A loud bang from inside the living room caught their attention.

'What?' Sidney was on alert.

Arthur Parker poked his head around the archway. 'Ah, hello! I thought I'd come up for the weekend. Hello Charlotte, I wasn't expecting you.'

Sidney looked fit to murder. 'I wasn't expecting _you_.'

To Arthur's credit, he twigged immediately. 'You won't know I'm here. Have a nice day!'

Sidney sighed. 'A tour, then?'

*


	27. The Playlist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for all your comments so far. Really, seeing the notifications in my inbox is awesomesauce and you good people are by far the most responsive readers I've *ever* had. There are over 900 comments on this fic and even if I consider half of those are my replies.. holy cripes, Batman.
> 
> So. I had a plan for where this story was going, of a loose sort. I had long-hand stuff written. But, I don't think it's going there exactly. We'll see where we go from here. I'm really literally making this nonsense up as I go and frankly amazed anyone's bothering to read it.
> 
> I was even going to write original stuff today, or perhaps Brief Visit but your comments made me think I ought to get some of this down. So I did.
> 
> However, you may be heartened to know that Arthur leaves the house tout de flipping suite... and while I know that y'all might want more detail, I hope this gives your own extraordinary imaginations enough to work with. That part, I leave with you.

Charlotte really tried very hard not to laugh at the situation in which they found themselves, or Arthur's mortified dart back into the other room, or the way Sidney had turned murderous towards the brother he so adored.

'Are you all right?' Sidney asked her after a moment where she shook, trying not to laugh.

Tears rolled down her face and, despite her best efforts otherwise, a hooted little noise issued forth, heralding the arrival of intense giggles that had her sides aching.

'I'm fine...' she replied once she had her breath back. 'But my _god_, your family has the worst timing. The _worst.' _

In spite of his own severe irritation, Sidney relented and leaned into the laugh himself. 'Yeah. If I didn't know better, I'd think it was a conspiracy.'

'They _wouldn't! _Would they?'

'Did you tell them you were coming here?'

She shook her head. 'Nope. You?'

'No.'

'Just our luck, then? So... a tour?'

He ran a hand through his hair, which temporarily distracted her. 'Tour-tour or euphemistic tour?'

She felt the blush to the tips of her ears. 'A _tour_-tour would be nice, actually. _First_, anyway.'

'OK.' He took her bag and set it by the bottom of the stairs before taking her hand. 'So... this is my house. Except it belongs to Arthur and Tom too. Tradition holds that it's left to all the children, who then either share it or one buys the others out. Fair's fair.'

'Until there's like 25 shares?' This seemed a short-sighted idea to her, but what did she know?

'I never thought of that. It's never happened, but... hmm. Right now, it makes sense that it belongs to all of us - we can all come and go.'

'You're the only one that _lives here_, though?'

'Yeah. So... this is the drawing-room.' Sidney led her into a light, airy room with high ceilings and what appeared to be many of its original fixtures and fittings. It was _gorgeous_.

The fireplace was a grand marble affair, shining and sparkling white, its mantelpiece loaded with photographs of members of the Parker family through the years. This, more than any other detail, caught Charlotte's attention.

'Who is everyone? Is that Tom as a boy? What a smile!' 

Some of the photographs were sepia or black and white, long-gone faces of the _beautiful people _through the ages: a girl with a beehive and a Quant mini-dress in one; a pencil-moustachioed gent with Brylcreemed hair who was probably from the 30s; a debutante in her Edwardian Presentation gown; a colour photo of the Parker siblings at Disneyworld in the early 90s that stuck out amongst the elegance like a sore thumb.

She returned to the debutante. She was a very beautiful young woman in her lace and frills, enigmatic smile and distant gaze. 

'That's Aunt Cassandra.' Sidney had crept up on her again - his breath was hot on her neck. She shivered in spite of herself. 'She lived to be 103. She never married-'

'Probably how she came to live so long.'

He chuckled and moved away a little. 'Quite probably.'

'Is that _you _in the Donald Duck hat? So sweet!'

He scowled. 'I was _nine, _ OK?'

'It's lovely! And oh, lickle Arthur, look at him! So cute!'

'Not my current opinion,' Sidney muttered.

As if summoned, Arthur poked his head into the room. 'I'm just off out. See you later!'

He was gone before they could respond.

Charlotte laughed again. 'I think we embarrassed him.'

'I really don't care.' 

Hand in hand again, he took her downstairs to what had once been a cellar and was now a modern lower ground floor: a home gym of a standard that explained a _ lot _about Sidney; a small but well-stocked wine cellar, a vault with more security than some high street banks; and a swimming pool with a skylight that set the afternoon sunlight sparkling on the water. 

'You have your own _pool _ ?' Charlotte stared out at it. 'You... you have a _pool_.'

'It's not very big.'

'You have a fucking swimming pool, Parker! And is that a jacuzzi? You basically have Sanditon Hall in your basement!'

'Well, we don't have a sauna,' he replied. 'Tom wanted one, but it seemed a step too far for me.'

'It's good to know you have _some _sense of perspective. And... I do like the look of the hot tub.'

Sidney's smirk was _wicked. 'Do _you, Heywood?'

'Yes, but I didn't think to bring a swimming costume.'

'I think we'll make do.'

'You think?' She couldn't help the broad, silly smile or the way she leaned into him. 'Better finish the tour first, then.'

'Yeah.' He cleared his throat. 'Sure. So... yeah, let's go upstairs- I mean, to see it.'

'You're secretly a dork, aren't you?'

Sidney seemed to give this genuine consideration. 'Only around you.'

'How terrible for me.'

'But,' he replied, a devilish smirk upon his mouth once more as they climbed the stairs. 'You're secretly a _minx_. Nobody knows but me. I know.'

'Not so much that you know, but are to _blame. _'

They paused in the hallway to pick up her bag and went up another flight of stairs. The front of the house here was taken up by an impressive home library, the whole of its walls taken up by shelves from floor to ceiling - except for the windows - and a hefty antique desk took up that space, accompanied by a _Mastermind-_looking leather chair.

'Fucking _hell_,' Charlotte forgot everything as she looked inside. Each shelf was stuffed with books, except one wall of shelves, which were rammed with music: vinyl LPs and 45s; CDs and even some cassettes in a corner like a bad memory of the 90s someone couldn't quite forget.

'It's all right?' he asked like her opinion _meant _something.

'You've seen Beauty and the Beast?' she asked back.

'Jenny and Alicia have made sure of it.'

'You know the bit-'

'Yeah.'

'That's how I feel right now.'

'It's the work of generations. I can't take credit.'

'And these?' she waved a hand at the records as she moved to take a closer look. 'These look like the work of Sidney Parker to me.'

'Some of it's my grandmother's collection. She loved music. The ancient shellac ones were my great-grandfather's and... the prog belonged to my dad, and the Led Zeppelin was my mum's. Other than that, I think it's all mine, yeah.'

'Wow, Sidney. _ Wow.' _She reached her fingertips to touch the sleeves. 'May I?'

'Yeah.' He hung back as she delved through the shelves, hoping to understand more about Sidney as she did. His collection was a broad sonic church: complete collections of the Beatles (inc their solo work), the Stones, Hendrix, the Doors, Zeppelin, the Who (only up to, she noted, _Face Dances_) and Zeppelin; everything Miles Davis did, including _On the Corner _and _Doo-Bop_; 1960s touchstones like _Forever Changes _by Love and _ Pet Sounds _by the Beach Boys.

'How have you organised them?'

'You tell me?'

'I have no earthly clue. Not by artist-'

'Boring.'

'Not by genre.'

'Cliche.'

'Order in which they were acquired?'

'Nope.'

'Favourite?'

'Nope.'

'They mostly look like they've been wedged where you had space.'

'Yep.'

'Sacrilege! How do you ever find anything?'

A shrug. 'I just... do.'

'You can- Oh!' Charlotte pulled a record off the shelf. 'You have _Global A Go-Go_! It looks new.'

'It is.' He shifted awkwardly on his feet a moment. 'I... You had that Mescaleros t-shirt... I went on Spotify and liked it, so. Yeah.'

'You took a musical recommendation from _me_? The girl with the t-shirts she didn't earn?'

'I didn't say that.'

'You thought it, though.'

'I was a fool.' He turned to look out of the window, and she could've kicked herself for pulling the mood down.

She reached out to retake his hand. 'Yeah, a little bit. But you got better. And so did I and now here we are.'

'Here we are.' He twined his fingers with her - she found it was quickly becoming her favourite feeling in the world. 'What do we do now?'

Charlotte leaned in, trying to make herself bolder than she felt, even as every fibre of her being quivered with a close balance of nerves, terror and desire. 'It's your house. You tell me.'

'Well...' he cleared his throat and reached with his free hand to push the hair out of her eyes. 'I can show you the rest of the house. Or I can show you to your room.'

'_My _room?'

'By a strange, stunning coincidence, it also happens to be my room.'

'Oh yeah?'

'Yeah. It turns out that, even in a house this big, it was the only one available to you.'

'I'll make do, somehow.' She pushed up onto her tiptoes to kiss him and was grateful for the arm that wound around her to keep her upright. 'Dunno how.'

'We'll find a way.' With that, he now led her up another flight of stairs. 'Tom and Mary's room, boring; children's rooms, boring.'

The third floor: 'Arthur's room, some storage. Boring.'

The fourth floor, clearly the old household staff lodgings, with lower ceilings and a small, cramped landing. 

Sidney grabbed the doorknob. 'This is me.'

He opened the door. What had once been a set of staff quarters was one big room with what was presumably an ensuite bathroom behind another door. The room stretched from the front of the house to the back and was painted in dark green. Floor-to ceiling wardrobes carved out the end of the room into a dressing area that Charlotte definitely wanted to look through at some point. 

The windows were covered with blackout curtains, and no natural light seeped in: their only illumination was from the landing. It was cosily dim.

A large TV with several games consoles took one corner with an accompanying gaming chair- no, not a chair...

'Sidney Parker, you own a _beanbag_? I am shocked.'

He let her bag drop softly to the carpet. 'It's a _gaming chair._'

'Made of?'

'Ergonomic cushioning- it's a fucking beanbag, and I'm not going to apologise for it.'

'You don't have to apologise, it's just _adorable_. I feel I'm learning so much.'

'Good?'

'So far.' She turned her attention to the one piece of furniture she'd been ignoring. 'Parker?'

'Yes?'

'Do I want to know why you own a bed that looks like it could comfortably take like _nine _people?'

'I'm very tall.'

'Yeah, but-' She dared reach out to touch the soft (high thread count) duvet cover. 'It's just huge.'

'I own a huge bed because I _can_. I'm not hosting orgies or anything.'

'OK.' She hesitated, her heart working its way from its usual place to her throat. 'I just...'

'Yeah?'

'I- I mean, that is...'

'I have _never _seen you lost for words, Charlotte. What's the matter?'

She could feel her legs turning to the consistency of overcooked noodles. 'I really wanted to be chill and cool but... I have _not_ done this before, and it's just...'

'Yeah.' He stood in front of her and clasped her shoulders, rubbing them gently. 'I'm not going to pretend I don't want to spend the next _year _in here with you. I do. But it's all your speed, OK?'

She nodded, finding she had no voice otherwise. 'I really _want _to. I thought after yesterday... but it's quite different being in the same room. At least then it was still just me in the room and even though you were there, you- I'm not explaining this well.'

'It's OK.'

'I want you _desperately_, Parker. My virginity doesn't mean anything to me, but... I also don't know what to _do _except in theory, and my body keeps freaking out on me and-'

'If it helps at all, I can tell you that there is_ nothing _you could do to ruin this.'

'No?'

'Other than running away and never coming back. And even then, it's only the never coming back that would bother me. Because I want you here. With me.'

'I want to be here.'

'Would it help if we played video games first?'

'Are you fucking _mental_?'

'Want some music, then?' he shoved his phone into a dock, and after a moment a Spotify playlist was going: "Mondo Bongo" by Joe Strummer and the Mescaleros was the first tune. 

It was a delicate, sensuous little song one might never have expected from Clash-era Joe and- Charlotte stopped that train of thought because it was so utterly, completely irrelevant. Except-'

'You really liked the record?' she asked, stepping close enough again for him to take her hands and pull her into a slow swaying dance.

'Yes. When I heard it, I thought of dancing to this, with you. I'll be honest, this whole playlist is "songs I want to dance to with Charlotte Heywood".'

'Yeah? You've been thinking about that?'

'Endlessly. It was safer than thinking about the alternatives while I was at work.'

They danced, each edging closer to the other by increments. He turned at one point, which made her breathless. He was so _warm_, so close that she could feel his heartbeat in his chest.

"Good Man" by Raphael Saadiq followed - the tenor of their swaying dance shifted. They danced, two sets of hands starting to tentatively roam beyond backs and shoulders. He directed them towards the door just long enough for him to kick it shut with his toes, leaving them in reassuring near-darkness.

That song was followed by - of all the fucking things - a Doors outtake, a sly and jazzy piano-based go at "Queen of the Highway" with a rich, seductive vocal from the reptilian monarch of a lead singer.

'Bloody hell, Parker,' Charlotte murmured. 'Where did you find this?'

'Ages ago, but I thought of you and how your Doors t-shirt _clings _and... it popped into my head. Can't imagine why.'

At that moment, Morrison's voice crooned out about being _naked, formless _and entirely without realising, Charlotte let out a long, deep sigh that sent her sinking closer to Sidney. 

The song finished, followed by Nat King Cole's _Quizas, Quizas, Quizas _which sent Charlotte's hips to swaying. Sidney hissed.

'Sorry-' she started to pull away reflexively.

'Don't apologise,' he insisted, tugging her back to him again. 'Keep going.'

The song ended, replaced by another unashamedly romantic song: "Unforgettable". It was not Nat but Marvin Gaye.

'As playlists go,' Charlotte whispered, not wanting to shatter any illusions. 'I am _here _for this.'

'I tried to curate it a bit,' he admitted. 'But mostly it's a mess. I have no idea what's next.'

It was Marvin again: "Let's Get It On".

'You are _not _subtle, Sidney Parker.'

'God, I hope not.' His hands had been trailing up and down her back and now dared finally to dip below the waistline to grab - it really was, she thought, the absolute correct word - her backside. She froze a moment but managed to chill out after a moment. 'Sorry.'

'Don't apologise. But it does have me thinking.'

'Yeah?'

'There'd better be some D'Angelo on here.'

He laughed. 'Three full albums' worth, I promise.'

'Ambitious.'

'I'll do my best, anyway.' He trailed kisses down her neck. 'You OK?'

'Very yes.'

That earned her a throaty chuckle that sent shockwaves through her own chest. 

At some point - she wasn't even sure when - she had kicked off her shoes, and the thick carpet was soft underfoot with pleasant friction as they turned in their increasingly unfocused dance.

The next song was, as if by magic rather than Sidney, "Send It On" by D'Angelo.

Charlotte had heard it before, any number of times. She had never felt quite as she did at this moment. It was overwhelming, to be sure. She had no idea how she was still standing, still conscious, let alone in charge of her faculties, but somehow she was.

Maybe it was Sidney's hands on her arse keeping her upright after all. 

Hang on- when had he removed her shirt? How did he _do _that? She was momentarily terrified a moment, then remembered he had seen everything via FaceTime and was still with her now so...

'Stop thinking,' he murmured, lips against her collarbone. 'I can hear you thinking.'

'I can't help it.'

'I need to work harder then - If you're still capable of conscious thought, I haven't done my bit.'

'Sidney...'

'Say it again.'

'Sidney?'

'Yeah. Not Parker. _Sidney_.'

'All right. Will you return the favour?'

'In every possible sense of that phrase, I will,' he promised, gaze now burning into her. 'Charlotte.'

She had never, ever heard her own name spoken in such a way before. Her knees did buckle, and his arms tightened around her.

'Sorry,' she whispered.

'Don't-' he kissed her again. 'Fucking.' Again. 'Apologise.'

With an admittedly practised manoeuvre, Sidney got them from standing to the edge of the bed. The backs of her legs slid along the sheets - she was no longer on her traitorous feet.

'I'm glad,' she said. 'That you know what you're doing. 10,000 hours and all that.'

Now it was his turn to freeze. 'I mean-'

'It was a joke. You're...'

'You really don't mind?'

'No.' The depth of her sincerity surprised even her. But there was one niggling feeling... 'Do you need to tell me about anything? Medical, I mean. Because I just want to know-'

'Am I clean, do you mean?' His expression turned to_ stone, _and she hated herself for making him feel that way. 'Yes, I am. I have always been a very responsible slut.'

'Don't say that. You aren't a _slut_. What a fucking judgemental piece of shit word that is.' She could feel a rant bubbling up and had to force it away because now was really, really not the time.

Sidney buried his face into her bare shoulder, and the heat radiated down her body. 'Charlotte?'

'Yeah?'

'Why do you want _me_?'

'I don't know precisely, just that I do. And you have, like, a magnificent arse.' She reached down to tap his glutes lightly. 'Like, seriously, what do you do to get that-'

He reached out to grab her hands and pulled them up to press featherlight kisses to her knuckles. It was an extraordinarily sweet thing given the context and made her heart _flutter_. 

'I think,' she whispered, determined to tell the truth and yet hardly able to form the words, 'that you are my favourite person in the world and I have no idea how that even happened. You're not bad; you're just drawn that way.'

'That's my line.'

'So it is.' 

They had come to a pause, and it was starting to feel a little awkward and frustrating. So, Charlotte summoned every scrap of bravery she had and reached down to grasp his cock. She had paid great attention during their FaceTime and felt like she had least had a notion of what would make his eyes roll back in his head-

Just like that.

'Shall I continue?' she asked.

'I'll never forgive you if you stop.'

Another laugh bubbled up - Charlotte tried to stop it, but she couldn't help it.

'I love your laugh,' he said, through slightly-gritted teeth. 'Beautiful Charlotte.'

Charlotte thought - if she'd really had the capacity for such lofty concepts at that moment - that the feeling was mutual.

It was all too much, really. Perhaps though, not yet enough. Another moment of hesitant nerves. What the fuck was she meant to do now?

Sidney, even though there was not really enough blood in his brain at present, seemed to understand her plight. He reached out to her. 'It's all right, my love. I've got you.'

It was true: he did. The playlist continued on, and on, and on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every song quoted is available on Spotify. As are the records mentioned. I hope you'll allow me this indulgence, for Sidney has the record collection I would have if I had his money.


	28. The Party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I saw 1917 earlier and it's an exceptional looking film but it's not fun and I felt like I needed to cleanse my brain with something altogether nicer, so here it is. Never mind that I had other shit to do today. Le sigh.
> 
> Thanks for the response to the last chapter - really massively appreciate you taking the time. I've never had a response to fic quite like it.

Sidney's phone was ringing. It stopped briefly, then rang again. He startled awake when he twigged that the ringtone was the one he'd set for Babington.

He scrambled off the bed, somewhat slightly dazed, to find wherever the fuck it was. There - on the dock where he'd left it.

Four missed calls. He snatched up the phone and tapped to open the request.

Babington's voice cut through the air, irritated and sharp: 'Where the fuck are you, Parker?'

'What?'

'You fucking promised to be here. Where are you?'

'Oh, fuck.'

'Yes, oh fuck, Sidney. These people are fucking unbearable.'

'It can't be that bad?' Sidney sank down onto his beanbag and immediately regretted the feeling of slightly sweaty skin on fake leather. Rookie mistake. He looked at the time. _Oh_. 'I'll be there, soonest.'

'You better, Parker.' A pause on Babington's end, which let the background noise of a soiree reach Sidney. 'I presume you're bringing Charlotte?'

Sidney paused. 'Yeah.'

Babington sighed. 'You can work on your excuses on the way. Arse.'

'Sorry, Babs.'

'Yeah, yeah.' Babington ended the call. 

Sidney stared down at his phone for a moment while his brain caught up with everything. He took a deep, steadying breath before scrambling to his feet with all the lack of dignity the chair and his situation demanded.

He returned to his bed - seeing Charlotte curled up there just demonstrated how bloody massive it was - and almost let himself slump down again. Instead, he summoned up every scrap of fraternal feeling for his friend and shook Charlotte's shoulder.

'Hmm.'

'We have to get up now.'

'Hmm.'

He leaned over her and kissed her bare shoulder. 'Wake up.'

'I'm awake.'

'Right.'

'Nearly. Go away.'

He did not follow this instruction, preferring to run his hands along her exposed back. She shivered, which sent a shot of satisfaction down his own spine. 'We have to get up so that we can save Babington from death by a thousand alumni.'

She twisted to face him and grimaced under sleepy eyes. 'Maybe, but I don't think I _can_ move.'

He chuckled.

'Don't be so fucking smug, Parker.'

'Can't help it.'

'It's _your fault_.'

He kissed her soundly, almost forgetting his actual aim. 'I accept the credit.'

'You are an insufferable arse.'

'Babington just called me that.'

'He's right. But...' she sighed and flopped back down onto the pillow. 'We said we'd be there.'

'It's going to be horrible. Always is.'

'What's it like? I've never bothered with that sort of thing.'

'Lots of oneupmanship, people you never wanted to see and the occasional old pal.' He rubbed his face. 'I really don't want to go. You don't have to come with me. Stay here.'

'It's all right. But... I do want a hot bath first.'

'As milady commands. I'll even go and run it for you.'

She smiled then, a lazy, happy, sleepy thing that made his heart grow three sizes bigger. If it had been anyone but Babington, there was no way he was leaving the house. But...

'Right then,' he said firmly, mostly for his own benefit. 'Off I go.'

He did not move, did not even break contact with her.

'Are you going?' she asked, mid-yawn.

'Yeah.' No movement. 'Definitely.'

'Go run me a bath, Parker.'

'All right.'

'What time is it?' she asked, glancing around for a clock, of which there were none.

'Half-past eight.'

She startled then. 'What? How long were we- never mind.'

'Not long enough, in my opinion.' He yawned. 'Bath, right.'

He stumbled into the bathroom and turned on the light. It was ungodly bright, and the mirror was not kind. His hair was a catastrophe and-

Were those _scratch marks_ on his chest? Fucking hell. He smirked and allowed himself a moment to wallow in the truth that he had done an excellent job-

Bath. He started running it and wished he had something _charming _in the way of bubbles to provide, but he wasn't a bubble bath sort of person so Radox would have to do.

He had a sudden, startling, vivid image of the room smothered in candles and smelling like a branch of Lush, and Charlotte in the clawfoot tub drinking champagne-

Another thought he had to cut off to get on with the task at hand. He showered quickly while the bath filled, and that just got him thinking about how he could best weaponise the shower for his own nefarious ends.

He was halfway through his shower when Charlotte came in, looking a little uncertain as much as she shared his own thoroughly fucked aesthetic. He saw the moment she caught sight of _him _\- the nerves were replaced with ardour.

'It's nearly ready,' he said over the sound of running water. 'Make yourself comfortable.

Holy fuck. Charlotte turned to get in the bath, revealing bruises on her hips in the shape of his own fingers. He stopped the shower.

'Did I do that?' he reached out as she looked down. A swirl of warring emotions burned his blood. Surprise, a little pride and a certain amount of shame...

She _smirked_ at him. 'I didn't see anyone else in there, did you?'

'Does it hurt?'

'Nope. Everything _else_, on the other hand...' She slid into the water and sighed. 'That's nice.'

'Are you... OK?'

'Yes. But...' The frown that settled on her face unsettled _ him _.

'Yeah?'

'I don't really feel_ different_. I feel _ awesome _ but... all those books and movies lied to me. And I'm not surprised. Just- I dunno.'

'Whatever you feel is what you feel,' he said, now wrapping a towel around his waist. He knelt by the bath and took her hand. 'You _look_ stupendous.'

'A mess, you mean.'

'Maybe, but you're my mess. And,' he tapped his chest. 'What do you call _these?' _

Charlotte blinked several times. 'I did that?'

'Did you see anyone else in the room?'

She closed her eyes and took several long, deep breaths. Sidney remained where he was, even though he was not altogether dry yet.

Charlotte opened her eyes and fixed him with a gaze that tore through his entire soul. 'Thank you, Sidney.'

'What for?'

'Being patient with me. Being... gentle. And being not gentle and all the things... I am glad this happened the way it did.'

'Me too.' He squeezed her fingertips. 'You're happy?'

Her eyes fluttered shut again. 'The happiest. Absurdly happy. Outrageously happy. Fucking _sore_, though.'

A joyful laugh bubbled up in Sidney's chest. 'It'll pass, I promise.'

'With practice, I suppose?' Her eyebrow arched just_ so_.

Once more, he wished beyond measure that he cared less about Babington and could duck out of the evening without guilt. 'Come on, we should try and get to Gideon's before nine.'

'Help me up?'

'Of course.' Sidney practically hauled her out of the water. 'You're really gorgeous, you know.'

This somehow discomfited her more than anything they'd done in the last few hours. 'Nah, just-'

He kissed her before the thought could be completed. 'What did I say about your self-esteem issues, Heywood?'

'Tell them to fuck off?'

'Exactly. Get dressed.'

*

They arrived at Babington's Mayfair flat just before nine, in a miraculous feat of travel that required the avoidance of Oxford Street altogether.

Lord Babington, as befitted a man of his pedigree and wealth, lived in a large penthouse apartment in a recently refurbished building so close to the Park that hayfever sufferers were warned away from moving in.

'You're late, Mr Parker,' the doorman joked.

'His Lordship has made that clear, Mr Bellamy,' Sidney retorted. 'Is it busy?'

'Bit of a crush, sir.'

'Ah, well.'

Charlotte had never been in a building where the doorman unlocked the lift for you - she'd never been in a residential building with a doorman, come to think of it, unless the college porters were to be counted.

She already felt out of place amongst the polished chrome, gleaming marble and velvet curtains downstairs; the mirrored lift inflicted her own reflection back at her.

Not the type to own a lot of fancy clothing, she'd brought with her a little black dress that had been her grandmother's in the 1960s. It was made of the kind of fibres that not only avoided ironing but which were so firmly man-made, they would surely survive a nuclear winter alongside cockroaches, parts of Cher and most of Keith Richards.

It looked... fine. Classic, even. Her shoes were... pedestrian. She wore no jewellery for she hadn't wanted to risk losing anything precious on her travels, and her make-up was necessarily sparing thanks to her own lack of finer skill in that regard and to the lack of time she'd had to do it.

And she'd had to spend some time covering up a mark on her collarbone that had_ not_ been there before she entered the Parker household.

On cue, Sidney glanced at the shadow underneath concealer and smirked - the unbearable sod.

'Don't be so fucking_ proud_, Parker.'

'Can't help it. What do you think the chances are of the lift breaking down and stranding us in here, all to ourselves?'

'Slim to none and,' she nodded towards the camera embedded in the corner. 'It's not like we'd be alone anyway.'

'That not your thing?'

'No. I don't like to share, thank you.'

His eyes, if it were possible, turned dark. 'Nor do I. How handy.'

The lift slid to a smooth halt. A small, marbled hallway led into _Chez Babs, _and the door was propped open with what looked like the stone head of an ancient Greek statue. Heracles, if she had to guess.

Sidney took her hand and led her inside. It was a crush, as Mr Bellamy had said, and it didn't take long for her to identify several Oxbridge stereotypes repeated through the crowd.

'Sidney!' Babington was close by and waved them over, a wine glass in his hand. 'You made it!'

'Yes - sorry, we're late. Charlotte's train was delayed.'

It was apparent that Babington knew very well that this was absolute _ bullshit _ . Still, as he seemed the type to understand discretion being the better part of valour, he made a nonspecific remark about _public transport in this country _as if he'd ever bloody used it, and moved the conversation on.

The next hour was not the most interesting Charlotte had spent in her life, or that day, come to that. She was introduced to a parade of mostly forgettable people she couldn't care less about and who surely gave as much of a toss about her. They were, however, much interested in Sidney.

Everyone, it seemed, wanted a piece of Sidney. They wanted investment advice, or the name of his tailor, or for him to meet so-and-so, or for him to introduce _them _to such-and-such. 

She glanced around - Babington had the same luck. Here, in a roomful of some of the most privileged people in the world, they were still grasping at _more_.

After an hour, she made an excuse and headed out to the terrace. The sunset over Hyde Park was entrancing - she had space to _breathe_, even if London air was muck compared to Sanditon or Willingden.

_ Willingden_. God, but that place felt so far, far away. Charlotte had not been back home to visit since moving to Sanditon, although her parents had come to see her on a rare day off.

What would the good people of Willingden say to see her here now, rubbing shoulders (literally) with the elite, in her borrowed antique dress and cheap shoes?

What would they think of Sidney? 

What would _Lucy _think of Sidney? The old ache of grief pulled at her heart but hadn't the same overwhelm as it used to.

_ 'Fucking hell, Charlo. Did you win the lottery? Nah, it's better than winning the lottery. Climb that motherfucker like a _tree._' _

She smiled at the thought - that did sound like Lucy, who was earthier than her own rather more cerebral, cautious self. Since she died, everyone had tiptoed around how coarse she could be, how she delighted in shaking people's preconceived notions of what a wee rural girl like her should be.

Lucy, who loved to dance and once drank six WKDs and vomited blue crap all over the Sports and Social Club carpet, who never met a crush she didn't love immediately, who loved Sherlock Holmes and _ Call of Duty _ , who'd once punched a bus stop, who was _glorious _and _sad_ and hadn't been able to find a place in the world, or maybe hadn't waited long enough to find it. 

Lucy would've _loved_ Babington's flat. She'd have hopped up onto a table to get a better view of the Park and sat excoriating each and every guest in turn. It wouldn't have been kind, but it would've been mostly hilarious.

Charlotte's thoughts turned to Daniel then, as they always did following thoughts of Lucy since they were both gone. Her crush on that lovely boy had felt deep and eternal at the time, but now, as she glanced at Sidney through the picture windows, it seemed as fleeting as cherry blossoms on an April breeze.

It was unfair to compare the two - she cut the thought immediately. She didn't know what Daniel would say about her current situation because she'd never known him well enough.

Charlotte was too cynical to think she really _knew _Sidney Parker yet, but she was well on her way. What would he say to her hiding out on the balcony? Probably something about how she had the right idea. That said, it wasn't fair to leave him to the sharks for too long.

She paused at the door. Since her departure, he'd become surrounded by women who were determined, it seemed, to grab a piece of him. In a couple of cases, quite literally. A red-taloned hand grasped his arm, curling around the tricep so hard that Charlotte winced. 

Most of the faces looked at him with undisguised, selfish _interest_. She wouldn't even call it lust or desire, just _what can you do for me, Mr Parker? _She could tell by the set of his shoulders that he was profoundly uncomfortable; rage tore through her, not jealousy on her own part but righteous anger on his behalf.

Was this how it always was? It would explain a lot about him.

How to approach this? She didn't want to embarrass him or act just like them.

_ 'If in doubt,' _she heard Lucy say. _'Kill the fuckers with kindness. You're the kind one; weaponise that shit.' _

She was sure her dad would counsel the same, but with a little less swearing. So, she planted a pleasant smile upon her face that didn't reach her nostrils, let alone her eyes, and approached.

The look of relief on his face only added to her desire to punch everyone in the face. 'Charlotte...'

He seemed at a loss about how to explain the situation, how he wanted to explain it wasn't his fault, as if she couldn't tell.

'Parker,' she said. 'Do you still have my wine?'

Sidney looked down at the glass in his hand like he'd forgotten it was there. He handed it over - she sipped for comfort more than taste. 'Safe and sound, as promised.'

'Who is this delightful young thing, Sidney?'

'Yes, do introduce your escort for this evening!'

The inflexion on "young" and "escort" was purposeful. She smiled more. 'I'm Charlotte, from the Sanditon regeneration project. And you?'

Each of the women introduced themselves, though Charlotte paid no attention to the details except to note they all had predictably interchangeable upper-crust names and the same kind of job - the easy, well-paying kind that only people who didn't actually need to work ever got.

'How nice of Sidney to invite you along,' one said. 'I'm sure Sanditon can use all the help it can get.'

'Have you visited?' Charlotte asked as if the hostility hadn't been present. 'It's really charming. I think you'd like it - it would appeal to your heightened appreciation of the aesthetic.'

The empty compliment did its work.

'Charlotte's really key to the whole project. The cinema regeneration Milo Shaw is involved with was _her_ idea.'

'It wasn't really-'

'Yes, it was. Take credit where it's due, Heywood.'

She rolled her eyes at him and watched as half a dozen women gaped at her open mockery of him. 'Fine. But you're the one that got it started.'

'That is true. I_ really_ want to see Armageddon again.'

'I think there should be a moratorium on shit films when it opens.'

'Not even a Shit Films Festival?'

'That's actually a good idea. Showgirls and Howard The Duck as the late-night features-'

'Now hang on, Showgirls is legitimately awful but leave Howard alone.'

She turned on him now, entirely forgetting their audience. 'You like Howard the Duck? It's like I don't even know you!'

'Says the woman who mounted a spirited defence of Labyrinth!'

'It's an actual classic!'

'It's only a classic because of David Bowie's knob!'

'And the catchy tunes!'

'Not denying the knob point, then?'

'Of course not, that thing is _right there_. It's got its own credit on the IMDb page.' They paused to breathe and laugh.

'The Shit Films Festival actually sounds like a good idea,' she conceded after a moment. 'I should make a note. Do you have my phone?'

He did, as she'd completely forgotten a party-appropriate bag. Once handed over, she made a quick note before handing it back. He slipped it back into his pocket, and the spell was broken.

At that point, Charlotte discovered they were being stared at, appraised and assessed. The women were_ not_ happy with her.

'So,' said one. 'Charlotte. I suppose you're on the lookout for more investors?'

Again, the emphasis on the word investors was hard to miss. 

'I think we're sorted. And that's not my part of the project.'

'What is? Clerical duties?'

Charlotte couldn't help but laugh at how unsubtle, how nasty they could turn. 'Clerical in the sense that my current clerical duty is to find a way to stop an entire gallery falling into the stalls without ruining the line of sight for anyone, sure. Really Parker, did you lot used to just jump up and down all the fucking time?'

'Er... yeah, actually. I'm amazed we didn't smash it to pieces years ago. Does Stringer have any ideas yet?'

'Nothing that doesn't involve ripping it up and starting again.'

'How did you two meet?'

'Funny story, actually,' Sidney said before Charlotte could say anything. 'She stole my table in a coffee shop.'

'I stole? Are you out of your _mind_? My books were _right there_.'

He grinned. 'Gotcha.'

'Pseudo-Byronic dickhead.' That earned a couple of genuine laughs from the Greek chorus _still_ surrounding them.

'Well,' Sidney linked arms with her. 'We should be going.'

'But you only just got here!' 

'You can't go _yet_, Sidney darling!'

They did not leave just yet but found a temporary sanctuary in Babington's home cinema, where a set of short films by alumni were screening.

'Is it always like that?'

He nodded once. 'More or less. But it's my own fault. I used to encourage them-'

'That's not how it works.' She leaned up and ran her fingers through his hair, pausing to provide a brief little head massage. 'When can we leave?'

'Once the crowd thins out?'

This took some time, but as the night wore on and most in attendance got drunker, the mood shifted from schmooze to the same kind of mess that any group of rural teenagers in a bus shelter with some cider would rival.

'Charlotte!' Babington wanted her attention. 'Thank you for dragging him here.'

'Oh, I didn't. He actually felt he had a duty to save you. And now I see why.'

'I hate this,' he admitted. 'But there are expectations when one is... who one is.'

'Yeah.'

'Have you seen Esther Denham at all this week?'

'Only in passing when I went over to the Hall for Spin class. Why?'

'No reason.'

'Really?'

'Just curious about how she is. We left things... badly.'

'Oh.'

'I wasn't very kind about her step-brother.'

'The creepy arsehole who stares at every woman's arse in the gym when he's there? He's vile, far as I can tell.'

'Oh, I quite agree. My mistake was saying so. She's very loyal, you see.'

'A good quality to have when someone's worthy of it. I'm sure it'll be all right.'

'Will it? I'm not sure she was all that interested to begin with.'

'I don't know her well enough to say,' Charlotte searched for the right words. 'But I was there at the firepit the other week. She seemed interested enough.'

Babington blushed a little. 'Do you actually like Sidney? I mean, properly?'

'Properly?'

'Like you actually give a damn about him? Because he's my dearest friend in the world and- I won't see him hurt again.'

They both looked over to where Sidney was suffering through an anecdote by a dull chap while his trophy wife eyed Sidney like she was at an auction and he was one of the lots.

Charlotte kissed Babington's cheek. 'I give enough of a damn to get him out of this fucking party right now.'

'Fair's fair. Will you untie him long enough to play five a side with me on Sunday morning?'

She forced herself not to blush at the turn of phrase. 'I make no promises. Message Esther: you're not sorry for your opinion, but you're very sorry if it hurt her feelings.'

'Roger, wilco.' He saluted her. 'Go in peace, Miss Heywood.'

She marched up to Sidney, took his arm and pulled him away from the conversation, away from the flat, away from everything and down in the lift.

'Babington-'

'Will survive,' she replied. 'I am now amazed that you're not in prison for grievous bodily harm.'

'That was nothing compared to most events I go to.'

They stepped out of the lift and almost ran into a blonde woman on her way upstairs.

'Sidney!'

*


	29. Never Vomit The Good Whiskey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the super comments on the last part!
> 
> Am sorta-compiling a proper playlist which I may share if you want. 
> 
> And yeah, I'll admit that you *may* have correctly identified the blonde.................

Sidney's grip on Charlotte's hand tightened painfully for a second - she was obliged to bite back a gasp. 

He did not move, either forward or aside, to let the woman enter the lift. 

The woman's eyes darted between Sidney, Charlotte and their joined hands, then back to Sidney. She waved a hand towards him in a gesture vaguely inclined towards a greeting. 'How _lovely _to see you, darling! It's been such a long time!'

The following awkward silence was enough time for Charlotte to take in the details: the blonde woman before her was the same kind of skinny, monied white woman she'd been dealing with all night, with the same sort of expensive _everything_. She was though, closer to Sidney and Babington's age than the mostly older women upstairs, and she was absolutely drop-dead gorgeous. Where the others were more inclined towards Sloaney conservatism, this woman dressed as though she'd just stepped out of the _Vogue_ September issue.

They both waited for Sidney to reply.

'About ten years,' he finally said without emotion, like his brain was rebooting. 'You must remember, it was just after you came back from Las Vegas.'

In a flash, Charlotte understood. She squeezed Sidney's hand in solidarity and kept her gaze neutral. 

The woman - _Eliza - _now turned her sharp blue-eyed attention on Charlotte. 'Won't you introduce me, Sidney?'

He seemed, Charlotte thought, like a tightly-coiled spring ready to _ping _at any moment. He ignored Eliza's request. 'You've never bothered with any alumni shindigs before.'

Eliza waved a be-ringed hand, her perfect shellac manicure shining in the light. 'Turning over a new leaf, darling. It's all about making connections, isn't it?'

'Depends what you mean by _it_, I suppose,' Charlotte replied, the challenge reflexive and not at all conscious. 

Eliza's eyes narrowed at her, but she said nothing.

A fourth voice joined them from close by: 'Need help with the lift, miss?'

_ God bless Mr Bellamy, _Charlotte thought, as he moved to help Eliza with the lift and give Sidney and Charlotte a way to escape. Which they did.

Outside, Sidney strode down the street so quickly that she could barely keep up. Never had she felt so _little _in comparison. 

'Are we getting a taxi back?' she asked, starting to gasp for breath. 'I don't know how long I can keep up this pace wearing these bloody shoes.'

He stopped, eyes fixed, and yet not at all fixed, on a point behind her head. 'Sorry. Sorry, I just-'

'It's all right.'

'I had no idea. If I did, we'd never have-'

'That much was clear. Are you all right?'

'No.'

'Of course not, that was a stupid question. Sorry.'

'Don't be sorry. Let's go home.' There was a momentary pause while they waited for an unoccupied taxi to pass. They were soon back on their way: Sidney staring out of the window, Charlotte worrying about Sidney.

At Bedford Place, Sidney let them in and marched directly up to the library. Charlotte followed behind, still trying to determine her best course of action, feeling entirely out of her depth. 

Sidney slumped into his desk chair and grabbed a bottle of whiskey out of one of the drawers. He took the time to pour it into a glass, at least, before chucking it down his neck.

'Sorry,' he said again. 'I am not at my best.'

She started to move closer, but the look on his face stopped her. 'I know. It's OK.'

He rolled the now-empty glass in his hand. 'You hate me when I drink.'

'I do not _hate you_. I find we fight more when you're drunk and those aren't the same things at all.'

He took another drink. 'I think I will be drunk this evening. Fucking _plastered_. Brahms and Liszt as the proverbial newt. Bladdered. Squiffed to fuck and totally blotto.'

'Well,' Charlotte took a deep breath. 'I won't beg you to stop, but I do wonder at the wisdom of letting her win. Again.'

'What?'

'I googled her name in the taxi. Took me a minute because I didn't know her surname. Eliza Cam-'

'Campion. It is now. She was Eliza Carteret when I knew her.'

'I found her under "Eliza billionaire". She and her husband divorced two years ago. He dumped her for a younger model, but there was a prenup, so she's wealthy, but she's not _billionaire _wealthy. Not anymore.'

'A younger- She's only thirty-two! A _younger model_? Fuck me.'

'What, a billionaire with scummy morals?' Charlotte scoffed, annoyed that his first instinct was to defend Eliza, even though she knew he was right on this part. 'Shocked, I am! Anyway, she always wants the best thing in the room, so you told me.'

'Yeah.' He started to pour another glass.

'Sidney.'

He met her gaze now, a little unfocused already as the spirits kicked in. 'Yeah?'

'Has it occurred to you that _you _are the best thing? Are we to believe that Eliza Campion suddenly got a surfeit of college loyalty? On the evening when she _ knew _ you would be there.'

'Maybe, but-'

'I could be wrong. Fuck, I hope I _am_, but I saw the way she looked at you, Sidney.'

'Pity?'

'No, not pity. Like you're the toy she doesn't have and has to rectify that as soon as possible. Like all those other women but amplified like fuck.'

'She wasn't always like that, you know.' He stared into his newly-refreshed glass. 

'No? What was she like? The girl who only took up with you once you'd been through your glow-up? The girl whose mates wrote vile things in the pub toilets and she, what? Did nothing. The girl who left you while she was on fucking holiday because a richer prospect came along? Tell me, Sidney. What_ was_ she like?'

'You don't know her,' he said, tossing the latest glassful back, the whiskey darkening his spirits yet more. 'She was good once. I have to believe that.'

'Maybe she was. Maybe you just wanted her to be.'

'ENOUGH!'

'See?' Charlotte threw up her hands in defeat. 'You get drunk; we fight. Every time.'

'Well, fuck off then.'

'Do you actually want me to fuck off?'

'Yes!' This did not contain the ring of truth he might have hoped it did.

'And what form do you want this fucking off to take? To another room? Another house? Back to Sanditon-'

'No!'

'Then make up your fucking mind! To where shall I fuck off, my lord?'

Sidney had no answer immediately. He took another drink, bypassing the glass this time. 'Just leave me alone.'

Charlotte actually threw up her hands in defeat. 'Drink some water before you go to sleep, all right?'

'I'm not an amateur in these matters, thank you.'

'I'm going to your room to sleep.'

'Fine.'

Charlotte went to leave; as she turned to take one last look at him before shutting the library door, she thought Sidney looked very much like a wounded animal trying to lick its wounds in private.

So, she let him. 

She removed her make-up with nothing but soap and water because she'd forgotten to bring remover. She changed into the Doors t-shirt she'd brought to sleep in. She folded all her clothes neatly in her bag, to leave quickly in the morning if she needed to. 

She did all this while stubbornly refusing to get angry, although she wanted to scream at the injustice of it all.

She'd started the day feeling hopeful; continued the day in a manner even more extraordinary than she'd dared consider... and now ended it alone in the rumpled sheets of Sidney's ginormous bed. Feeling cold and very small indeed, Charlotte fell into an uneasy sleep.

*

At 03:12 am, Charlotte was jolted out of her sleep by the sound of Sidney stumbling into the room and trying and failing to remove his shirt. He gave up and flumped down onto the bed face down in an uncomfortable position he'd never tolerate sober. 

'Charlotte...' he moaned.

'I'm asleep.'

'I didn't mean to take it out on you.'

'I know. But you still did.' She gave up and turned to face him, and was hit with a wall of whiskey stink as she did. 'You reek.'

'Sorry.'

'Brush your teeth, Parker.'

'Can't move.'

So, Charlotte helped him get up, into the bathroom, where the bright light sent him flinching like a vampire at dawn. She prepared his toothbrush for him and handed it over. Sidney looked at it with momentary confusion.

'Are you going to vomit?' she asked.

'No.'

'Sure?'

'I never vomit the good whiskey.' The implication that he was familiar enough with the variations of this situation made her sad more than angry.

No... she was still raging enough to want to punch every single one of Eliza Campion's veneers from her face. But she wouldn't. She would take the high ground.

Even now, Sidney was still trying to find ways to avoid seeing Eliza as the bad guy. Was he still in love with her? She didn't think so, but it was hard to ignore the fact that Eliza was the _only _serious relationship he'd ever had. The only one to last more than a week in more than ten years. Could Charlotte really compare to that?

'You deserve better than me,' he mumbled once he was finished brushing his teeth.

Charlotte helped him wipe a streak of toothpaste from his face and then back to bed. 'I deserve whatever it is I want to deserve.'

'Yeah, but-'

'We'll talk tomorrow. Sleep.'

Whether he passed out or fell asleep was immaterial, only that he did. Charlotte turned him onto his side in case he vomited after all, then climbed back into bed to try and find some rest.

It came, but slowly.

*

Saturday morning was a write-off, as expected. Her own slight hangover was cured with strategic tea and toast while she waited for Sidney to rise.

She was still in the kitchen, eating toast and reading the newspaper when Arthur bounded in. 'Good morning! Didn't expect to see you up so early.... after the party, I mean, not anything else-'

'It's all right, Arthur. How are you? Did you come home last night?'

'Ah, no. I, er... thought better of it. Some old school chums and I went to a club. I just got in.' He rubbed at his bleary eyes, smudging his eyeliner even more.

'Eight o'clock in the morning is pretty impressive even for a club night.'

'I thought so.' Arthur rummaged around in the fridge a moment and emerged with a block of cheese. 'We went into Soho to find a decent spot of breakfast... why are you down here on your own? I thought-'

Charlotte sighed and gave him a brief account of the night before. By the time she'd finished speaking, Arthur had crushed an innocent lump of cheddar to bits.

'I hate her, Charlotte. I really try not to hate anyone, but she ruined my brother. You didn't know him before. I really wish you had. He was really so sweet, to everyone. Not just his duffer brother-'

'You're not a duffer, Arthur.'

'Maybe, but she changed him. He became cynical and _mean _about things, laughing _at _people instead of with them. She was unkind, therefore so was he, believing they were better than other people. And all we could do was stand back and watch. It got worse after my parents died, of course. Nobody to pretend for. And then she dumped him in that _vile, _heartless way, and he was never the same. Not ever. He went to London and never really came back, and I've never really known what happened to him except it must be even worse than I imagine. And I'm pretty good at imagining!' 

Arthur took a breath and scooped some smashed cheese into his mouth. 'I hope he doesn't get sucked into her orbit again. But I don't think he will, not when he has you!'

She blushed at his waggling eyebrows and inference. 'Arthur...'

'Oh, I won't tell a _soul!_ Did you at least have a good time before you went to the party, because-'

'Arthur!'

'Honestly, Charlotte, you didn't see what the pair of you looked like when you arrived. I'm amazed you even made it home!'

'Arthur!' She laughed a little in spite of herself, for there was only affection, not malice, in his jesting.

'I'm glad for you. Sidney deserves someone as lovely as you, and I think you deserve someone as lovely as him. Even if you spent the last few months bickering. Or perhaps because of it, eh?' He waggled his eyebrows again.

'Oh, shush.' She plucked a piece of cheese from his hand and popped it in her own mouth. 'What are your plans for today?'

'Well,' he wiped his brow. 'I need a shower, and then I'm going to sleep because I last woke up at 6 am on Friday. See you later.'

'Later, indeed.'

Charlotte, thus abandoned by both local Parker Brothers, spent the morning in the library. First to tidy up, then to read and listen to Sidney's record collection.

He has a larger-than-might-be-expected collection of classic female blues records, and she passed the time listening to queens like Bessie Smith and Memphis Minnie singing songs full of suggestion and innuendo that feels fresh to her ears now. 

She did not, in truth, manage to actually _ read _ very much. She tried several novels from across time and space; she tried a bit of modern history; she flicked through _ Bowiestyle _ and couldn't even focus on the pictures.

Charlotte would not be settled until Sidney was conscious and actually _talking _to her.

Then, her phone buzzed.

** Gigi: ** Where are you? Want iced coffee?

Should she tell the absolute truth or just part of it? Or nothing at all?

** Me: **Sorry, can't this morning. 

Hopefully, Gigi would not overthink such uncharacteristically blunt message... but it was Gigi, so her hopes were likely in vain.

Her phone buzzed again.

** Mum: **Don't forget Dad's birthday.  
**Me: **It's not for a month - I won't forget.

A pause.

** Mum: **Are you all right, Lottie?  
**Me: **I'm great. In London at the moment with friends.  
**Mum: ** That's nice, dear.  
**Me: ** Are you all OK?  
**Mum: **Ticking along.

Her mother would never admit to any struggles even if handed a million pounds.

** Me: **I'll visit you soon.  
**Mum: **I know you're busy.  
**Me: **I'm not too busy to come home and see you all.

No further answer was forthcoming, so Charlotte tossed her phone aside. It was almost midday now, and still no Sidney.

At half-past twelve, she climbed the stairs to his room and gently nudged the door open, nervous about what she might find.

She stopped in her tracks. Sidney was fresh out of the shower, a towel barely wrapped around his waist. He hadn't shaved, and a day's growth of dark scruff shadowed his face. He froze at the sight of her.

He looked at once like total shit and an entire snack, which was confusing, to say the least.

'Good morning,' he managed to say after a moment.

'Not morning,' she replied. 'Are you all right?'

'Nothing a bacon sandwich won't help.'

'Right.'

He cleared his throat. 'I'm sorry. I wasn't... my best.'

'No, you weren't.'

'It was a shock. I didn't think I'd... I thought I was... cured of all that. Really, I did.'

'I think I'd be worried if you weren't affected in some way. But... she doesn't deserve to hold power over you.'

'I know. I'm sorry. You came all this way and we... what an end to such a day.'

'Yeah.'

'I'll make it up to you.'

'It's not about that, Sidney! You don't have to _make shit up _to me. You just- I want you to be happy and well. That's all.'

He said nothing, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

'Get dressed. I'll make you a bacon sandwich, and then we'll go for a walk. Is there anywhere leafy and green around here?'

He managed a smile then. 'Will Russell Square do?'

'Let's find out.'

*

Forty-five minutes later, they meandered through Russell Square arm in arm and clutching hot chocolates from the cafe.

'What do you want to do today?' he asked.

'This is good. I also really, really want to try out your hot tub.'

'I want you to try out my hot tub.'

'Do you make_ everything _smutty, Parker?'

'I try. How about a movie this evening? Curzon's over the road.'

'Yeah, maybe... Or we could stay at home and watch something without getting thrown out for whatever you'll inevitably try to do in the dark.'

'Try? Heywood, I will _succeed_.'

'Netflix at home, then.'

'Probably for the best. Did Arthur make it home?'

'Yep. Still sleeping it off, I think.'

'OK.'

They continued on their way around the square, dodging children playing with footballs, and parents with 4x4 buggies, and Instagramming tourists. 

'Are we OK?' he asked.

'Why wouldn't we be? I mean, I'm new to all this relationship malarkey, but... you're allowed to get upset about things that upset you, Sidney.'

'I'm not sure I'm any more meaningfully experienced than you in that regard, Heywood. The only basis for comparison is... well, _her_.'

'And if you got drunk and acted like a bit of a dick, how would she react?'

'I'd still be grovelling.'

'I really want to smash her face in, Parker. _Really_.'

'Yeah?'

'No autonomous human being should have to fucking _grovel_, Sidney.'

They walked on in silence for a while. Traffic rumbled past, and they left the park to cross the road. They passed Russell Square station and meandered to the Brunswick Centre. Its brightly brutal concrete shone in the sun. 

'This is quite something,' Charlotte said. 'I can't tell if it's very beautiful or hideous.'

'It can be both. We should pick up food and whatnot while we're here.'

In the gleaming middle-class provisions haven that was Waitrose, they stocked up on the snacks and assorted groceries needed for a chilled weekend at home.

The trip down the toiletries aisle was, for Charlotte, a form of excruciating awkwardness. She'd simply never had to go anywhere near the half-euphemistically titled "Family Planning" section. She'd walked past and knew it was there. She intellectually knew what everything was for; she had neither shame nor embarrassment, but... it was awkward.

Sidney smirked, not unkindly, at her discomfort as he tossed a couple of Durex boxes into the basket. 'Well... think about it this way, Heywood.'

'What way?'

'The last couple of months of my life have been uncharacteristically... quiet. I didn't even notice I needed to stock up. You see, in every sense, we're here because of you.'

'Oh... shush. Come on.' She tugged him along by the sleeve until they were in the more familiar toothpaste territory. The notion that he had stopped seeing anyone before he'd even so much as hinted that he liked _ her _ had not occurred to her. Was it flattering? Too much pressure on her to be something he needed very badly? How could she measure up-

'Stop thinking,' he interrupted. 'I can hear you thinking.'

'No, you can't.'

'I can.' He pressed his thumb gently between her eyes. 'You get this furrow just _here. _'

'I do not.'

'Yes,' he replaced the thumb with a kiss. 'You do. It's fucking adorable.'

Their walk home was brisk and practical. They put the shopping away together in a manner most domestic, and then there was nothing to do. 

'Netflix?' he asked, shaking a bag of crisps at her.

'Will there also be chill?'

'Depends.'

'On?'

'Will you ask nicely?'

'I will not.'

He shrugged. 'Still works. Come on. Let's go and not watch The Good Place.'

*


	30. Close My Eyes and Drift Away...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for your comments on the last chapter. I know it's not necessarily something you wanted to see but hopefully it'll all become a bit clearer as the story unfolds. I really do appreciate you taking the time to share your thoughts and don't worry about saying things that disagree with what I might have done.
> 
> And if it's any consolation, what happened wasn't *nearly* as bad as what I was going to make happen... 
> 
> *Columbo voice* One more thing: I'll share playlists soon just as soon as I decide the best way to share.

Sidney awoke with a start, drenched in sweat and heart fit to burst out of his chest.

He was vaguely aware of having had a nightmare but mercifully remembered no details.

Charlotte shifted and muttered in her sleep but did not quite stir, for which he was grateful, having already wrecked her sleep the night before.

Fucking _Eliza_. What did she _want_? Did she have some kind of Sidney Radar that went _ping _when she could sense that he was in danger of being happy?

He'd imagined their meeting many times over a decade. At first, he'd fantasised about throwing himself at her feet to beg for and receive forgiveness for whatever he'd done wrong to make her leave the way she did. That idea then curdled into him then screaming and shouting, letting his rage fly loose at her, then into frosty apathy as he worked through the supposed stages of grief.

He'd never pictured having someone he loved at his side; had never imagined being _happy _at the moment Eliza showed up again.

He'd never really expected to _be _happy; had long ago given up on that idea.

He had imagined drinking himself into a stupor, but he hadn't expected anyone to care.

He would have to find a way to properly make it up to Charlotte. She was far more patient than he deserved. Sleep began to seep back into his brain - he allowed it to take over.

*

Sidney woke early on Sunday morning and took the chance to get up and get a proper full English breakfast on the go.

Charlotte came downstairs still in the Doors t-shirt and knicker combo that had become a firm favourite of his. 'Hey.' She slid into a chair and rested her head on the tabletop, still tired.

'Morning. Want your eggs fried or scrambled?'

'Scrambled would be nice but you don't have to go trou-' she stopped upon seeing him already cracking eggs into a bowl. 'Thank you.'

'Least I can do.'

'What's the plan for today?'

'The plan is there is no plan. We stay here, we got out. It's up to you.'

She yawned. 'Staying in sounds nice. We can use the hot tub-'

'Yeah, yes. That sounds OK.' He put a cup of tea in front of her.

'You're so transparent, Parker.'

'You're the one who suggested it.'

'True. Arthur said he's going back home today.'

'Yep.'

'We should take him to the station-'

'He's a big lad, he can find it himself.'

'You're still annoyed at him crashing our weekend?'

'Yeah.'

'Don't be. He didn't mean to and-'

'I'm not that mad. I just had plans that involved a nice open fire and that big soft rug in the living room.'

Charlotte perked up. 'Oh! Roasting marshmallows?'

What the- she was teasing him. 'Very funny. I'm going to go and get some marshmallows now you said that.'

'Please do. And then you can fuck me senseless after.'

Sidney needed to _not _drink tea around Charlotte because he'd just taken a sip when she said that - quite, he thought, out of nowhere - and his mouthful sprayed out across the table.

'Charlotte Heywood, would you kiss your mother with a mouth like that?'

'Probably not, but I will kiss_ you_, so I fail to see any problem.'

He thought about this. 'True.'

Her eggs were almost done, so he dished up the bacon, tomatoes, fried bread and beans first, and slid a portion of steaming scrambled eggs onto the plate. He served her first and then grabbed his own. By the time Sidney was ready to sit and eat, Charlotte was already devouring her breakfast.

'Should I have waited?' she asked.

'No. Eat up.'

'I'm _ravenous_.'

'We didn't eat dinner.'

'True. Why not?'

'We were busy.'

Charlotte's face turned an _adorable _shade of pink all the way down her neck and under the collar of her shirt - she was at the point of _making_ jokes but not entirely comfortable with receiving them, which was also _adorable_. He also now knew from experience that the blush almost certainly reached her bellybutton. He felt his own blush form as the blood rushed from the top half of his body to the bottom half.

'I regret nothing,' he said. Then, a thought: 'I do regret how Friday ended. Not Saturday, Saturday evening was great.'

'It was.' She yawned again. 'Should we get out of the house for at least a little while? Fresh air might be nice. A coffee at that place in the square?'

'I have a better idea. Eat up, get dressed and then we'll go.'

"We'll go" turned out to be a bike ride to Regent's Park, with Charlotte borrowing Arthur's bike. It was not nearly as a pleasant a ride as that along the Sanditon coast, but enjoyable nonetheless. In the Park, they bought tea and went to sit amongst the roses, curled up together on the grass. 

'This is nice,' she said, head pillowed against his chest. 'Best weekend ever. Probably.'

'_Probably?_' What could possibly compare?

'Well, I don't know how the rest of it's going to be. I don't go home until tomorrow lunchtime, after all...'

'It's going to be fantastic. I promise.' He pulled her hand up to his mouth to kiss it. 'Definitely best weekend ever.'

'I'll hold you to that.'

*

They cycled back home and immediately stripped off and rushed to the hot tub. Sidney had had a brainwave while Charlotte was getting ready - he filled it before their trip out - it was warm and ready upon their return. 

Laughing hysterically at the decadence of getting into their own personal hot tub on a Sunday morning, they undressed and showered naked by the pool. 

Sidney watched, completely hypnotised by the gleam of light upon her skin and swaying of her hips, as Charlotte tentatively climbed into the hot tub.

'Oh...' She was talking about the loveliness of the water, but the sound nearly killed him anyway.

He had the presence of mind to set up his phone to play his continuing Spotify playlist through the tub's Bluetooth speakers and to close the skylight blinds.

By the time he'd slipped into the hot water himself, Charlotte's attention was gone. 

'Oh wow, this lights up! And different colours. What does this do?' She hit a button and a jet of water, shining pink, hit her in the face, sending her howling with laughter. 'This is amazing. What else does it do?'

Had he adored her less, Sidney might have been irritated by her distraction - this was _not _the intended purpose - but he did, and so he watched fondly as she messed around with settings.

Finally, when she'd finished playing, and the tub was bathed in soft red light, she took a breath. 'This is _really nice_.'

'It is.'

Charlotte leaned back and rested her head. Her toes briefly peeked above the waterline as she stretched out. 'So awesome. I feel like a queen or something.'

'As is right and proper.'

'If we had some champagne or something, it'd be- where are you going?'

'To get some champagne.'

Charlotte's hand clamped down on his arm. 'Don't you dare.'

So perhaps she was not quite distracted. Sidney pulled her close but did not move to initiate the actual act of sexual congress. He had never been fond of this sort of encounter - the water was never as helpfully lubricative as one would think, and the danger of slipping and smashing one's skull open was a distraction.

And then, Charlotte swooshed over and put her arms around him. 'Hello, Mr Parker.'

'Miss Heywood. How can I be of service to you?'

She shivered despite how warm it was. 'What's this song?'

He listened for a moment, having forgotten all about the ambience. It was Nina Simone, whose voice he adored, singing a song that was evidently designed to get filth past the censors. He told Charlotte this; they listened together for a little while to Miss Simone's delicate piano work and her rich, knowing voice.

'I don't think she actually means real sugar in an actual bowl, does she?' she asked.

'No...' he rested his head in the crook of her neck. 'I don't think she does.'

Charlotte hummed along, the vibrations adding something strange and intoxicating to the swirling, thundering water. Nina's song was not long and was soon replaced by Marvin (again) and Tammi (RIEP) singing "You're All I Need to Get By."

'I love this song!' Charlotte moved away to dance - more a bloody _jiggle _that sent Sidney's brain short-circuiting. She sang along a little. 'I... I stopped thinking anyone might ever think about me like this song. Or that I could think that way about them.'

Sidney pulled her back to him and turned so that she had her back against the seat and the water jets. He kissed her, warm and soft for a moment, then hard and determined. 'Well, you were wrong, weren't you?'

She still had enough brainpower available to snark a little: 'Apparently so.' 

This was not good enough. Sidney wanted her rendered a quivering _mass _of total bliss. 'Apparently?'

_ Apparently_, he was not the only one who had taken this train of thought along the line, for she reached for him below the water. 'Perhaps I was wrong.'

'You were. I suppose it doesn't happen very often?'

'No, it's a novelty.' She bit her lip, which was annoying if only because he wanted to be the one biting her lip. 'I'm not sure I believe it.'

This was said with that strange false lightness she was so good at. The still-functioning part of Sidney's brain filed this away under "things to consider properly at the appropriate time, which this is _not _".

'I'll persuade you,' he said, finding that his voice came out as no more than a hoarse whisper. Yet, the sound sent her eyelashes fluttering. 'Over and over.'

*

Charlotte was warm, dry and very, very happy. After their encounter in the hot tub, they'd made their way slowly upstairs, and now she was curled up on the living room sofa in her Doors t-shirt and a pair of Sidney's shorts and thick hiking socks he'd found for her when she remarked that her feet were a bit cold.

A mug of hot chocolate in hand - with marshmallows, because Sidney was a man of his word - her gaze and attention flickered between the film on the _huge _TV and Sidney's face. 

He looked about as relaxed and serene as she'd ever seen. The harsh scowl of disapproval was wholly gone; his shoulders were low and at ease; he seemed ten years younger. Instead, he looked like a wealthy 32-year-old man with few cares and _not _the grim-faced spectre of doom he'd been when they first met.

'Sidney?'

'Hmm?' He looked away from the film.

'Are you happy?'

God, the smile nearly killed her. 'I can't believe- I feel... _awesome_.'

She wanted so badly to make a sarcastic remark but forced that part of herself to shut the fuck up. 'That's what I wanted. Good.'

'You're an extraordinary human being, Charlotte Heywood.'

'So are you, Sidney Parker. In any number of ways.'

Ah, the smirk was back. 'Yeah, well... it's easy when you have the right inspiration.'

'What happens next?' She wanted to smack herself for introducing the uncertainty of _after the weekend_. 

He was unfazed. 'Whatever we want. I anticipate an outrageous number of WhatsApp messages throughout the daytime; long, rambling conversations over FaceTime in the evening that may sometimes descend into obscenity; me getting in my car and driving home as soon as possibly can at the end of the week and leaving as late as I can on a Monday morning... and then, whatever we want after that. I don't want to rush you-'

'Oh, come on. This weekend has surely not been how most people spend their first real date?'

He blinked and turned away from the TV entirely and took her hands in his. God, they were warm. 'This isn't our first date, Heywood.'

'It isn't?'

'Fuck no. What did you think everything else was before?'

'Just... well...' He had a point. What _had _all that been? 'Hanging out?'

His laughter filled the room, riotous and happy, like from an old swashbuckling movie. 'You _ dork _.'

'OK, so when was our first date?'

'Er... the time we spent _an entire night _out by the Sanditon Hall lake talking and... That's not a first date?'

'That was... that was just where we reached an agreement-' God, it sounded pathetic. 'OK.'

'And what about our trip up the hill? And to _Sainsbury's_.'

'Oh, sod off. I'm... let me find what I'm trying to say.' She took a breath. 'All that felt like... a prelude to _actually _being... this.'

'This being people who like each other a lot?'

'Yes.'

'To the exclusion of anyone else and the inclusion of bodily fluids.' 

Charlotte untucked a leg just long enough to kick him lightly in the side. His rock-hard core did not give way. The git. 'You're gross. Oh, watch now!' She pointed at the TV.

_'I'm _gross?' He waved a hand at the screen. 'We're watching _Labyrinth_ just so you can point out the ridiculousness of Bowie's cock and _I'm _the gross one?'

'That is _not _why. This is legitimate research for Shit Movies Week at the cinema!'

'Yeah, right.'

'It is! Howard the Duck is next.'

'I am_ not _spending any part of our first weekend together watching that shit.'

'Aha! You admit it!'

'Ah. Bollocks.'

A wave of victorious glee overtook her. 'I win!' 

She nudged him with her foot again - this time, he snatched at it and pulled her foot aside so that suddenly Charlotte was on her back - rather comfortably on the cushions, she noted - with her legs spread just enough.

'Miss Heywood,' he said, voice low and _deadly,_ 'You really ought not to start things you can't finish.'

'Who says I can't?'

An eyebrow raise in response. 'Interesting. Challenge accepted.'

The next thing Charlotte knew, she was hot, and there were stars on the back of her eyelids.

*

Monday was the coldest, greyest day the South-East had seen for a while and it fitted Charlotte's attitude well as she sat and the kitchen table and tucked into a bowl of muesli while Sidney got himself ready for work. Or rather, he lounged against the counter and _didn't_.

'Don't leave, then,' Sidney said. 'You can stay here as long as you like, as far as I'm concerned.'

'I have to work. Because _capitalism_. Which you do so much to bolster, Mr Investment Banker.'

'Oh, _now _she complains about capitalism! Not yesterday, when you were in the luxury hot tub, or when you were drinking champagne-'

'It was flat and warm.'

'Not my fault.'

'_Entirely_ your fault!'

'Yeah, OK, maybe. But I don't see you objecting to the beautiful house or the lovely food and drink or the Aston Martin in the garage.'

'I don't object to those things. I _do _object to the kind of wealth inequality that exists in this country, and I _do object _to people having to resort to food banks because their employers won't pay a fair wage and their landlords are taking most of their pay packet and-' She took a breath. 'I want _everyone _to have nice things. Or at least to have the basics they need and then to work for the nice things they want.'

He sighed. 'Yeah. I... I agree. I'm not trying to pick a fight with you to make your departure suck less, honestly.'

'Me neither. When do you have to leave?'

His gaze flicked to the kitchen clock. 'About five minutes. Got a meeting with a client at nine. I couldn't move it even though-'

'I know it's OK.'

'When's your train?'

'I got a ticket for the midday train, but I can go whenever. Sooner I get back the sooner I get done with work.'

'True.'

'Will you come down this weekend?'

'Try and stop me, lovely girl.' He pressed a quick kiss to her lips. 'I'll see if Babington's coming down as well.'

'We should take some time for Gigi too, and the Parkerlings.'

'Yeah, we will. Some.'

'Enough.'

'Yeah, yeah.' He looked down. 'Do I need a tie with this shirt?'

'Do you usually wear ties?'

'Nope.'

'Then, no. You look scrumptiously well-to-do, Mr Parker. Like the investment banker all the men want to be, and all the girls just _ want _.'

'That's nice for them. I only want you.' He kissed her again, just briefly. 'Just let the door close behind you. The cleaner'll be in at around one and will sort all the alarms and stuff.'

'OK. I'll... see you soon.' It felt like such a trivial, empty way to say goodbye after such a weekend. _ Such _a weekend... 'Sidney, I-'

He was at the kitchen door by then and stopped. He surely understood the stricken expression upon her face for he bounded across the room to kiss her a third time. There was nothing brief or token about the gesture, which found her pulled up from her seat until they were obliged to stop for reasons of cardio-vascular necessity.

Sidney set her back in the chair. 'OK. Well.'

'You'd better go. Nine o'clock dude awaits.'

'Ugh. You know what you were saying about capitalism?'

'That it sucks and should be set fire to?'

'Yeah, that. I'm starting to agree.'

'Viva la revolución!' Charlotte waved him away. 'Now... go before I change my mind and find a way to make you stay.'

'Ah, there's a list of-'

'Just go!' 

He blew her a cheeky kiss from the doorway, then strode away as quickly as he could.

The silence then was too much. Instead of tarrying, Charlotte got herself ready to leave as soon as she could, and was quickly on the doorstep with her rucksack on her back. She pulled the door closed and checked three times that it was definitely locked shut.

Her journey to Victoria felt slow and dull, like her mind now she was going home. The train from Victoria to Sanditon seemed to _crawl _along, a harbinger of how time was going to drip away second by interminable second until he returned.

Halfway between London and Sanditon, she resolved not to be _that _person.

'You've made it 25 years without _pining_, for God's sake,' she muttered, earning a curious look from the older lady nearby. 'It's just four days.'

Ten minutes away from Sanditon, her phone buzzed.

** Gigi: **Where are you?!?!?!? I just stopped by, and you didn't answer your doorbell. Again. Are you OK? Are you alive?

** Me: **Fine. On a train right now.

** Gigi: **Why are you on a train?

A millisecond pause.

** Gigi: **OH MY GOD 

A series of _fainting, happy dance and excited _gifs followed in quick succession.

** Gigi: **OH MY GOD DID YOU SPEND THE WHOLE WEEKEND WITH SIDNEY?!?!

** Me: ** Take some deep breaths, G. Don't actually faint.

** Gigi: ** Was it awesome?

** Gigi: ** Actually, don't tell me anything I DON'T WANT TO KNOW!!ICK SIDNEY.

** Me: **Gigi, I was NEVER going to tell you anything. 

** Gigi: ** Are you nearly home? I'll meet you at the station! I missed you!

** Me: **less than ten minutes. 

** Gigi: **AWESOME!

As promised, Gigi was at the station and dutifully refrained from asking any questions that might give her answers she didn't want to hear. But, as they sat down on the beach with ice cream - 99 with Flake, of course - she cracked.

Charlotte wanted to laugh at little as microexpressions flitted across her young friend's face as she tried to find a way to ask what she wanted to ask.

Eventually: '_Sidney_? Really? I mean, I knew you two had... but... that seems like a real thing.'

'Yeah. And I think it's safe to say that you and I don't see Sidney in the same way. Which is a very good thing for several reasons.'

Gigi licked the entire top of her melting ice cream into her mouth. 'Yeah, but I thought you didn't like him. For ages!'

'I didn't. He didn't deserve me liking him. And then he remembered to be the kinder, sweeter, funnier version of himself and I liked _that _Sidney. The one who is a pseudo-Byronic dickhead, as you so memorably said, but isn't really that much of a dickhead. You'll observe, though, that he and I took the time to become friends first.'

'Yeah. That must be nice.' Gigi hoovered up more ice cream and stretched her legs out across the sand. 'Charlotte...'

'Yeah?'

'What's it like?'

'What's _what _like?'

'Sex.'

Charlotte choked on her own 99. 'Gigi-'

'I don't mean with _Sidney_. Ugh, no. I mean... in a general sense. Like... what's it _like_?'

Of all the things Charlotte had shared with Gigi previously, her own romantic inexperience was not one, and she didn't think it would help to share that now. So, she erred on the side of caution: 'I think that when it's the right thing, it's very, very right. And when it's not... it really isn't.'

'Yeah. But...'

'Yeah?'

'I'm seventeen, and plenty of girls I know are already doing it, and I don't even have a boy I_ like_.' She sighed. 'Or a girl.'

'So? You're on no timeline but your own. Most of the people I know who rushed into it because they thought they were supposed to? They either don't remember, or they regret it. The ones that did it because they _wanted to _and because it meant something? They don't regret it. What am I trying to say? Ugh, this is hard.'

'That's what she said,' Gigi cracked up. 'Sorry! I couldn't resist.'

'The point is that it's not about how old you are. It's about whether you _want _to do it or not. If you _enthusiastically _consent. I feel like I'm lecturing you; I don't mean to. Is the other person a decent human being? Do they treat you kindly, and with respect and affection? That's the bare minimum standard, by the way. I'm not going to patronise you and tell you it _has _to be _loooove _.' Charlotte batted her eyelids dramatically and earned another laugh in reply. 'And I'm not going slut-shame anyone. You'll know, I reckon, when there's a person, and the right time and situation.'

'Yeah. I just...' Gigi toed the sand awkwardly. 'There's a big difference between knowing the mechanics and actually doing it.'

'Yeah,' Charlotte chuckled and barely stopped herself from saying _tell me about it_. 'Most of what we get told about sex in movies and books and magazines is absolute toss. Go your own way.'

Gigi was apparently satisfied by this, for she asked no more questions. 'I'm glad I've got a big sister like you.'

A lump formed in Charlotte's throat. 'Me too.'

'My AS Level results come in on Thursday. Will you be with me when I open them?'

'Of course, if you want!'

'Cool!' Gigi's phone buzzed, and she took a moment to read before scrambling to her feet. 'Bella. I'm going home to use the wifi for Skype. See you later!'

'Tell her I said hey.'

'Will do! Byeee!' Gigi sprinted away. 

Just as Charlotte ate the last of her ice cream cone and was thinking of actually going home, James Stringer moseyed over.

'Charlotte Heywood, long time no snark.'

'Hey, James. How are you?'

'Can't complain. Got my first payment for cinema plans.'

'Super!'

'Free rein, he said. That Milo bloke, I mean.'

'We'll soon see if he means it. But take him at this word. Have you got an idea of what you want to do yet?'

'Oh, yeah! Got ten minutes?'

'Yeah.' 

'Right!' James sat where Gigi had just been and proceeded to outline his ideas for the cinema. 

It did not take ten minutes. Between crude finger drawings in the sand and Charlotte's many questions and supplementary ideas, they were there for an hour and repaired to the Coffee Cabin to keep talking.

As soon as she'd finished with James, Charlotte was pulled into a game of Ludo with the Parker children, then to dinner at Trafalgar House before a pre-bedtime screening of _Frozen_. 

When she finally reached home sometime during _Eastenders_, Charlotte realised that her life was unlikely to let her spend too much time pining after Sidney.

** The Best Parker: **Miss me yet?

Not _too _much time, anyway.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vis-a-vis the conversation with Gigi, Scarleteen is a great resource for honest, thoughtful, open and progressive ways to talk to young people about relationships and sex and whatnot and I recommend it heartily.


	31. The Brother I Remember

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, so I wasn't going to post this just yet, but I happened to go to the British Museum today and got a ton of writing and typing-up of scribbles done there. I even took some pics if you think they might add something to the earlier chapter...
> 
> Anyway, I'm really thankful for the comments - i've never, ever had a response like this to any fanfic I've posted and I've been doing this for some time now. 
> 
> So, here goes.........

Sidney Parker was awfully proud of his ability to hold off messaging Charlotte for most of Monday. If pressed, he would have to admit that this was no particular achievement of his so much as an indictment of how busy the day turned out to be. 

Nine O'Clock Dude was the kind of client who needed his hand held through every single aspect of every single process; who had to have every possible iteration worked through before making a decision... and so Nine O'Clock Dude was also Ten and Eleven O'Clock Dude.

Milo Shaw was his midday call - he was in Mustique apparently - which was at least a usefully constructive call. 

Sidney had a full fifteen minutes to eat the falafel salad his assistant Ellie acquired last-minute from Sainsbury's, before running over to West London for a totally pointless meeting where his attendance was for appearances more than function or need.

'I want to stab myself in the eye with a fork,' he muttered to Babington, who was there mostly so that the clients could claim a bona fide toff worked for them. The more junior bankers doing the actual work weren't happy they were there getting in the way and stealing thunder and kept glaring over at them.

'Same. But anyway, how was your weekend?'

Sidney tried not to smile soppily. 'Good. Once we got over running into _her_.'

Babington blanched. 'God, I wasn't sure if you'd seen her. I couldn't believe it when she walked in. Nor could anyone else. Are you all right?'

Sidney shrugged. 'I wasn't. I think I am now. It was just... a shock.'

'Of course! God, had I _any _notion she'd have been there, I'd have warned you. Or told you not to come.'

'She must get invitations like anyone else. I just... let's not talk about it.'

'Are you sure?'

'Yeah.'

'So you'd better talk about Charlotte then. Did you have a _super _time? You look tired.'

'I am absolutely dead inside. But in a good way.'

'A _ good _ way?'

'Fucking _immense _way,' he admitted. 'It was... It _was_. That's all I'll say.'

'God, and he exercises discretion! You must really care.'

'I do. I'm going down this weekend. Are you coming?'

'Oh.' Babington looked away and pretended to be very interested in the pattern on the meeting room blinds. 'No, I think not.'

'Are you sure?'

'Yup. I need to... go home, I suppose.'

'I thought you said you weren't going home as long as your mother-'

'Better just get it over with, eh?'

'Babs... you can talk to me.'

'Because you're suddenly an expert?'

'No, because I'm your friend. But forget I said anything if you want.'

'I think I do.'

'OK, then.'

'OK, then.' Babington echoed. 'I suppose we should gladhand a bit more.'

'When will we be free of this purgatory?'

'When we eventually die and enter real purgatory. Cheer up, Parker. At least you have a pretty girl waiting for you at the end of the day.'

This immensely satisfying thought got him through the rest of the day.

*

The messages started to arrive the next morning.

** Unknown Number:** Hello darling, guess who!

He wanted very much to tap the block button immediately, but an unseen force stayed his hand. Better, he told himself, to keep tabs on her. It was surely better to know what she was doing than not. He saved her in his phone simply as** E**.

The messages continued, although he did not reply.

** E: **We must catch up soon. Over dinner - my treat! It's been such a long time.

Sidney's fingers itched to reply with vitriol, but he said nothing.

** E: **How about the Ivy? Or afternoon tea at the Ritz? I still think you were the sweetest 18-year-old boy in history for that. Best birthday ever!

Nothing more for a while. Sidney's heart clenched at the memory of proud he'd been to take her all the way from Sanditon to London and walked he straight into the Ritz like they were real grown-ups of taste and refinement.

He'd hated the stupid little sandwiches and minuscule cakes. They had to stop at Burger King on the way home to save him from starvation, but Eliza had loved the whole experience. He could still remember how her face lit up to be in such a beautiful place.

The beauty, he now wondered, or the expense? He couldn't tell anymore.

** E: **Do you want me to say I'm sorry.  
** E: **Let me talk to you in person.

An hour passed.

** E: **I want to explain. It wasn't what you thought.

That one was hard to swallow - Sidney nearly sent his phone flying across the room for that, and he focused instead on actual work for a full thirty seconds.

** Me:** Who gave you this number?  
** E: **Plenty of people have your number, darling. You've been a busy boy.  
** Me: **Leave me alone. I'm not interested in anything you have to say.

That was pretty straightforward and unambiguous, he thought.

** E: **So, why are you talking to me now?  
** Me: **I can't get any work done if my phone is buzzing every ten seconds.  
** E: **So block me.

A moment.

** E: **You won't, though. You're much too curious. We can straighten it all out. Don't you feel like there's unfinished business between us?  
** E: **I know I do.  
** Me: **I do not.

This was a lie. The unresolvedness burned like poison in his blood.

** E: **All right. I'm staying with a dear friend a while. Jemima Taverner. I think you know her.

Oh, for fuck's sake. Of _course_, Eliza and Jemima were friends. Stood to fucking reason. Peas in a fucking pod. Was Jemima the one that gave Eliza his number? Told her about Charlotte? 

If Sidney was in his most lucid mind, that question would have rightly thrown everything into sharp relief. But, distracted by ancient pain as he was, and trying to establish the right, sane thing to do, he did not see it so.

The messages kept coming, and he tried his best to ignore them. Cajoling messages, thoughtful messages, curiosity-sparking messages, but most of all, persistent bloody messages.

Every time his phone buzzed anew, his thumb hovered over _Block _but he never quite managed to tap. 

By Thursday, he'd barely slept, and his mind had gone around and around on everything so many times that he was distracted to the point of madness.

'You all right, mate? Not like you to be inattentive.'

He was in a Sanditon meeting with Milo but hadn't heard a word for minutes. He sat up. 'So sorry, Milo. Haven't been sleeping well this week. Must be the weather.'

'You _do _look like shit. Shall we get a drink?'

'Now?' It wasn't even quite lunchtime.

'There's a bar downstairs, right?' Milo said. 'C'mon, mate. We can do this with a beer and pleasant riverside view.'

One did not generally contradict one's billionaire clients, so they were soon on their way downstairs and across the plaza to_ The Miss Marie Lloyd_, a supposedly "traditional" pub - in a building less than ten years old, owned by a pubco and offering precisely the same food and drink their 500 other pubs did.

'Sidney, hello!'

His heart _stopped, _and his blood turned cold. What the fuck was Eliza doing there, looking like she'd just stepped off the cover of some magazine? Not necessarily _ Vogue _ but maybe _Harper's Bazaar _or _Elle. _

God, since when did he have an opinion on fashion magazines?

He plastered a smile on his face. 'Hello.'

'What a coincidence, running into you like.' She beamed at Sidney, then at Milo and flipped her blonde hair over her shoulder. 'Hi there. Eliza Campion.'

She thrust her hand out to Milo, who shook it. 'Milo Shaw.'

'I'm so glad I ran into you, Sidney. I wanted to talk to you about Sanditon and what I can do to support your fantastic scheme.'

They started moving toward the bar again, Eliza in tow.

'You know Sanditon?' Milo asked her. 

'Oh, Sidney and I grew up together there. Didn't we, darling?'

'Yeah.'

'Well,' she continued, totally ignoring his disinterest. 'Now I have more money than I know what to do with, I thought you could advise me on the best investments.'

Sidney tried to find the best way through this - any mess by the man Milo had already called _ "the sane Parker brother" _ could jeopardise the whole project. 'Call the office and make an appointment. I'm with Milo presently-'

'Oh, of course!' Eliza adopted an attitude of great penance, which Sidney marvelled at if only because she'd never experienced the feeling for real. 'I am so sorry to have disturbed! Nice to meet you, Mr Shaw.'

'Call me Milo.'

'Milo. Ta-ta for now, Sidney!' Eliza sashayed away; Sidney refused to look.

Once settled at a table on the Marie Lloyd's terrace with cold beers, Sidney and Milo resumed their meeting. Strangely, the encounter with Eliza allowed Sidney to set such thoughts aside, and much excellent decision-making was done with tour boats and river buses chugging along the water in front of them. 

At last, Milo asked the question Sidney had dreaded since she appeared: 'So, who was that woman?'

'We went to school together.'

'That's all?'

'No.'

Milo laughed. 'Eh, you don't have to spill your guts to me, mate. Hot, though.'

'Yeah.' This was true, objectively speaking. 'Recently divorced from Oliver-'

Milo startled. 'Hang on, she's _that _Campion? Jeez, I'd never seen his wife. How the hell did that socially-stunted goblin get _her_?'

As "money" was a bit too on the nose, Sidney just shrugged and pulled a gulp of beer. The meeting didn't last much longer, and plans were made to meet in Sanditon on Monday.

'Not putting you out of your way?' Milo asked, shrugging into what looked to Sidney like a £10,000 leather jacket. Even someone with money like Sidney would pause a moment before buying something like that; Milo Shaw tossed it around like it was nothing.

'Nah.' Sidney tried to act like he wasn't absolutely stoked.

'My mum always taught us never to put people out if we could help it.'

'I'll head down and spend the weekend with my family. It'll be great. don't worry.'

'Cool, cool. See you then.'

A manly handshake later and they were done. Sidney returned home and, with an Etta James record on the turntable, worked some more.

When he was satisfied he wouldn't be disturbing Charlotte at work, he sent a message:

** Me: **Guess who gets to stay in Sanditon until at least Monday this weekend?  
** Heywood: **Rimsky-Korsakov?  
** Me: **Who told you?  
** Heywood: **Haha. Want to Skype?  
** Me: **Still working, boo. Later?  
** Heywood: **Have an 8 am meeting, so need an early night. Haven't slept well this week.  
** Me: ** Neither have i. have sweet dreams, beautiful.  
** Heywood: ** You too. Don't work too late, lovely boy.  
** Me: **I promise nothing.  
** Heywood**: *kiss emoji*

Sidney leaned back in his chair. He took in a long, deep breath and exhaled slowly, starting to feel a little more even-keeled. All would be well.

His phone buzzed again, and he snatched at it to see Charlotte's latest message.

** E: ** Lovely to see you earlier! Happy coincidence! 

Sidney's good feeling soured, and a wretched one took over. He wanted _nothing _to do with Eliza, yet she was poisoning everything anyway. He needed very much to get back to Sanditon. 

Less than twenty-four hours; he could last that long. Couldn't he? 

Sidney slammed his laptop shut. Tomorrow would be better: it _had _to be.

*

By Friday afternoon, Eliza had yet to call the office to make an appointment, which wasn't surprising. Sidney left at four o'clock with lightness seeping back into his heart. It was a baking-hot day, the sort to presage a summer storm in a day or two. He shrugged out of his jacket, set his Ray-Bans onto his face and marched out of the office with Sanditon as a target he would not miss.

With the Aston's engine growling and pushing him closer and closer to Sanditon with every mile, Sidney almost felt like things were entirely well.

He parked outside Trafalgar House as usual and was just about to take his bags inside when the youngest Parker trio yelled from the direction of the beach and bounded at him.

'Uncle Sidney!' Jenny reached him first by dint of having the longest legs, with Alicia a close second and Henry eventually stopping at his knees and reaching to be picked up. Sidney, as always, did just that and pressed a greeting kiss to Henry's forehead.

'Hello, team. I suppose you had a grown-up with you?'

'That would be me.'

He turned; he'd missed her approach, and nearly dropped Henry at sight of her. She was dressed for a trip to the beach on a hot day: all tiny shorts and a bikini top barely covered by a red vest. And sunglasses that reflected his own face. She carried Henry's bucket and spade in one hand and Alicia's discarded sunhat in the other.

'Charlotte!' Henry bellowed into his ear. 'Uncle Siddy, we dug a hole!'

'Hello, Heywood.' He was at least glad that his voice emerged as its usual self and not a prepubescent squeak.

She gave nothing away. 'Parker. Wee'uns, time to go inside. Wash your hands _and _feet before you go in the living room, please.'

The trio nodded obediently; Sidney set Henry down to follow his sisters inside. Ordinarily, he would follow them directly but instead paused.

He tipped his sunglass down a little to better take in the view. 'You look delicious enough to eat.'

Charlotte smiled and cocked her hip in a light parody of a posing model. 'Don't make promises unless you intend to keep them.'

'It was a statement of fact. I can make it a promise if you want.'

'Are you... staying here?' she asked, nodding at Trafalgar House.

'Well, I can go to the Hall if you-'

'I didn't mean that, and you bloody well know it.'

'Well... I wasn't sure. I didn't want to make it a _thing_...'

Charlotte's flirtatious act crumbled. 'Yeah.'

Realising his mistake, Sidney reached out to take her hand. He misjudged slightly and caught only her fingers and Alicia's hat, but it was enough. 'I didn't mean I don't _want _to! Just... I don't fancy having that conversation with Tom yet.'

Charlotte sighed and shook her hair. 'Well... yeah. Come inside. You look knackered.'

'Thanks.' He held the door open with his foot and tried not to stare too much as her shorts-clad backside passed by.

She turned back to him. 'In the nicest possible sense.'

'I'm not sure there's such a thing but, sure.'

'Mary and Gigi made pink lemonade earlier. Want some?'

'Is she behaving herself?'

'Mary? Always.'

'Gigi, Heywood.'

'Well, of course. She's been at the library every other morning and seems quite content to bum around otherwise.'

'Suspicious.'

'Yeah?'

'Yeah.'

'Is Old Sidney Parker rearing his head? Should I expect a tongue-lashing imminently for-'

'Yes, but very much in the new Sidney mould.'

'What do you- _Oh_. Very funny. And yet, I will hold you to it.' She now looked over her sunglasses at him. 'Suppose it's only fair I return the favour.'

His belly flipped then tightened. 'You're killing me, Heywood.'

'Not yet, but I will.' They stopped this topic upon entering the kitchen and finding Gigi there. 'Gigi, look what the cat dragged in.'

Gigi had a pile of chocolate mousses, single-portion tiramisu and several packets of sweets and crisps balanced in one hand. 'Doesn't that make you the cat?'

Charlotte set her sunglasses down on the side and slid up onto a stool. 'Eh, I've been called worse.'

The sound of bickering children in the bathroom broke their serenity, but it ceased as soon as Mary's voice cut in from nearby.

'Gigi,' Sidney said, looking at the snacks. 'Are you going to eat those all by yourself?'

'God, no. Munchkins too.'

He plucked the bag of Haribo from the stack. 'Not those. They send Henry totally loopy.'

'OK. Did you know you look like crap?'

'So Charlotte tells me.'

'Don't you believe in sleep?'

'About as much as you believe in minding your own business, Georgiana.'

Alicia's voice cut through the house, loud, shrill and outraged: 'Ow!' 

Charlotte sighed. 'I'll go.'

Once alone, Gigi tossed her accumulated junk food down and turned on Sidney. 'Whey has Charlotte been... off this week?'

'She has?'

'Yeah. What the fuck did you do?'

'Nothing!'

'Yeah, right.'

'What happened?'

'She was fine when she got home, but she's been... worried. Overthinking. She says it's nothing. But I don't think it's just her missing your horrible self. Did something happen?'

Sidney _could _lie to Gigi. It wouldn't be the first time he'd kept his life from her. But there really was only one explanation that made sense: 'I'm... Eliza turned up.'

'Fuck that bitch.'

'Gigi!'

'OK, Fuck that arsehole.'

'Better, thank you.'

'You'd better be super-nice to Charlotte this weekend, then.'

'You'll be shocked and surprised to learn that's my exact plan.'

Gigi took notice of the bags he carried. 'You're not staying_ here_, are you?'

'I was-'

'Are you mad? I mean- Oh!' She laughed, almost directly in his face. 'Do you really think we all don't know? Do you think you're discreet? Even Esther Denham stopped me in the street yesterday to ask if it was true.'

Sidney sighed, then grinned and shifted the weight of the luggage. 'Suits me.'

'Good lad.'

'How's your studying coming along? Results next week-'

'God! You're still such an old curmudgeon. I read_ Tristan and Isolde _in Italian this week. And I started _Anna Karenina_ in Russian because I _really_ want to know more about 19th-century Russian agriculture. I started planning my first Chemistry project, and I even emailed Miss Goldman to see what she thinks of it. I also made plans to come to London this Thursday with Bella-'

'Gigi.'

'And stay at Bedford Place with you. No shenanigans.'

'We can't do that-'

'Which is why Charlotte agreed to come too, and I hardly even had to twist her arm. Funny that.'

She looked _so _proud of herself and her cunning plan that he couldn't help but agree. 'I pty anyone pitched against you, Miss Lambe. Thursday?'

'Yeah, until Friday and then Bella and I will go to her house- oh, does that mean you get a weekend with Charlotte? How fortuitous.'

'You're an evil genius, Gigi Lambe.'

'True facts are true. So, can we go to a club-'

'Absolutely not.'

'The pub?'

'No!'

'A nice rooftop restaurant and have a glass of wine? A small one.'

'No- Yes, actually. With Charlotte. A _small _glass.'

'Deal.' They shook hands to seal the deal. 'Pleasure doing business with you, Mr Parker.'

'I have never conducted business like that.'

The children were now clean and tidy and came to find Gigi and their rubbish food. There followed an awkward moment when Charlotte realised Sidney intended to follow her over to the terrace.

'Oh, just go away!' Gigi said, shooing them away even as she did the same for the Parker children in the direction of the living room.

Henry twisted round, big eyes wide and curious. 'Is Uncle Sidney going to kiss Charlotte?'

'I plan to, yes, Henry. Bye then!' He strode out of the house before anyone could say anything else.

It was the work of a minute or so to reach 1D Waterloo Terrace. Once inside and up the stairs, out of sight, Sidney gave into every instinct to touch her as much as possible.

'I'm trying to open the door-'

He dropped his bags to the floor, snatched the keys and unlocked the door all while the other hand snaked around her and his face was buried against her shoulder. 'Done.'

'Neat trick,' she said rather breathlessly. She scooped up his bag and scurried inside the flat before he could grab her again. 'Want coffee? Tea?'

'If I wanted that, I'd go to the Cabin.'

'Food? I've got-'

'Charlotte.'

'Yes?'

'No, I mean, I want _Charlotte_. A cheesy joke but-'

She kissed him then, firm and ardent, arms around his neck and fingers twined in his hair. Sidney's reflexes were swift, and he scooped her up, hands grasping her backside. She whined a little at his touch, and he was lost.

'Hang on!' she yelped. 'Door's open.'

Without looking, he kicked backwards and sent the door where it belonged. 

'That's not the first time you've done that.'

It was like being pushed into an ice bath. He set her back onto her feet.

'What's wrong?'

'Nothing. I just-'

'Oh. You were with Eliza. Here.' She straightened up and patted down her hair. 'OK.'

'Sorry.'

'It's OK.' He was sure she was lying. 'Have you heard from her?'

He wanted to tell her the truth, but what good would it do? Nor did he want to lie. So instead, he reached for her again. 'I don't want to talk about her. Or anyone else. I'm not here with anyone else. Just you. This isn't the place I remember, and I'm not the person who lived here. I'm just me now. And you're captivating. Just a brief moment of weirdness, that's all.'

'Yeah?'

'Yeah. I'm sorry if I let you think otherwise.'

'How do you intend to atone, Mr Parker?'

'Oh,' his fingers ran down the exposed skin on her back, and she relaxed into his touch. 'Very, very slowly.'

'Sounds... an appropriate response.'

'Good. I'm going to take my time,' Sidney murmured against Charlotte's collarbone as his hands now reached for the waistband of her shorts. 'Lots and lots of time.'

'Sounds...' she hissed as his thumb grazed a little lower than expected. 'Agreeable. I'll have to find a way to reciprocate.'

'There's a list.'

*

Sidney and Charlotte emerged for a Parker family beach picnic on Sunday and were roundly, soundly teased by all the grown-ups.

'Oh, dear Charlotte!' Mary was all concern as she handed out paper plates and cups. 'Did you walk into something?'

'Eh?'

'You have a bruise just there-' Mary pointed just below Charlotte's collar bone, where her t-shirt slid down. 'Looks nasty.'

'It's not as bad as it looks.' Charlotte's face burned. 'But yeah, I collided with something.'

'Something about six foot two and significantly less scowling than usual?' Mary patted her hand. 'I called this one almost the moment you two met.'

'What? _How_?'

'Nobody has ever affected Sidney the way you do. Nobody.'

Charlotte's heart tightened. That was a lot to live up to, and yet gratifying, after a week of low-key wondering and worrying about Eliza Campion. 'Well... I suppose the reverse is also true.'

Mary nodded. 'That's true. I thought you were going to throttle him when you found him sat at your table - then, he called you a student!'

'Oh god, I half-forgot that.' But _how_ had she forgotten? It was only a matter of _weeks _since then. Time had moved quickly around them. Too quickly?

She watched as Henry and Alicia piled onto Sidney, who allowed it with good humour even as he was slammed into the sand. He caught her looking and winked back at her.

Arthur nudged her shoulder. 'Thank you.'

'What for?'

'I know it's not all your doing, but Sidney is- well, he's the brother I remember... it's nice.'

There was nothing she could find to say to this. It was a _lot_. 

'Right, family!' Tom put his phone down at last. 'I fancy a swim! Who's with me?'

Nobody answered at first until Arthur relented and walked to the water with his eldest brother. 

Gigi had barely looked up from her phone and when she did, it was to pick up the book about Greta Garbo that she was reading for fun. Charlotte rather wondered if her young friend was reaching something of a limit with her sweet but loud family. Perhaps she'd invite Gigi to stay in the flat for a night or two during the week.

'Charlotte, will you play in the sea with me?' Jenny asked, bouncing a ball on her hand. 

'Of course. Come on, then.'

If the Parkers had consciously schemed to keep Sidney and Charlotte separately occupied they could hardly have done a better job for the entirety of the picnic. It was perhaps for the best if they wanted to actually interact with anyone else, but Charlotte found her attention was never far from Sidney.

They returned to 1D Waterloo Terrace exhausted, happy and ready to sleep for a hundred years.

'I'm glad you're not going back to London just yet,' Charlotte admitted as they tried and failed to cram into her tiny bathroom together.

'Me too.' He lathered off the day's sand and sunscreen while she unabashedly observed after her own shower. 'A whole extra night.'

'How fortunate we are.'

' I know I definitely am.'

'Cheesy git.'

'True.' He stepped out of the shower, water running down the sharp planes of his musculature. 

Charlotte could not help but reach out to touch his shoulder. 'How tired are you, right now?'

His posture collapsed and he rested his damp head against her own. 'So, so tired.'

'Come on then. To bed with you. See you in the morning.'

'When you say "see", Heywood?'

'I mean... _wait and see, _you cocky sod. Sleep.' She kissed him goodnight, soft and affectionate. 'Sleep well.'

'I don't think I've ever looked forward to a Monday before,' Sidney mumbled, half-sleeping already.

*


	32. All Flash Past on My Silver Screen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the lovely comments so far - I know I have some to reply to still!
> 
> Playlists are coming, I promise but I just finished typing this up and wanted to click Post before lunch hour ends. I'll fix typos etc later.

Sidney had left his phone at Charlotte's all Sunday and forgot to charge it overnight. So, he woke on Monday morning not to his alarm or early morning notifications, but to Charlotte's hair tickling his nose.

He snaked an experimental hand down her torso to establish how awake she might be.  _ Not very _ , it turned out. So, he closed his eyes and hoped to sleep a little longer...

He must've fallen asleep because he woke to Charlotte's hand, trailing up and down his chest. 'Hey.'

'Morning. Sleep well?'

He considered this question and was surprised to answer: 'Yeah, actually. I needed that.'

'You already look better than yesterday.'

'Good. How about you? Sleep OK?'

'Yep.'

'What's wrong?'

'Nothing.'

'Gigi demanded to know what I'd done.'

'What?'

'She says you've been... off... this week. What's up?'

'Nothing.'

'Yeah, right.'

'Sidney...' She burrowed into his side to avoid his gaze, which was at once frustrating and delightful.

'Don't change the subject.' He turned, obliging her to shift away and meet his gaze. Her hand, he was glad to say, remained attached to his sternum. 'You don't have to tell me what's wrong. But I do care what it might be.'

Charlotte's eyes fluttered closed a moment. When they opened again, she met his own with the kind of ferocity he'd admired in her from the very start. 'I'm afraid.'

'OK. What of?'

'This. It's all... a bit much.'

'OK...'

'It's  _ good _ , but it's a lot. And that woman suddenly showing up... I know that rattled you a lot.'

'It was a shock. But you're mad if you think it's changed my feelings for you even in the slightest.' He rolled so that he was above her and could lean down to kiss her, which he did, quite soundly. 'I haven't the words to adequately cover what I feel about you.'

'Yeah?'

'Charlotte,  _ yes _ .' Another kiss and a shift away from conversation. 'I wish you could see inside my head.'

'I think it's pretty obvious what's inside your head right now.'

How he loved to laugh with her. He couldn't remember the last time he'd really laughed with anyone like this. Probably never. Nobody wanted him for that. 'Touché. What's inside  _ your _ mind, then?'

She grinned  _ wickedly,  _ and in a flash, Sidney was on his back looking up at her. 'Oh, the exact same thing.'

'What shall we have for breakfast?' Sidney asked, partly to distract himself. 'Eventually.'

'We cannot  _ just _ have sex, Parker.'

'Disagree.' He sat up a little to reach her with his mouth.

'You are aware,' she hissed as his teeth brushed against her skin just a little sharper than expected. 'That I actually like you.'

'Aware, yes.\

'Yeah, but-'

'Shh, hard at work here.' His hands had been working their way downwards and reached their destination.

' _ Sidney-' _

'That's better.'

*

A respectably impressive time later, they sat at her kitchen table, munching on slices of hot buttered toast. Charlotte had thrown on a t-shirt in deference to the draught in the flat, but Sidney hadn't bothered and lounged in the chair like a Michelangelo statue come to life/

'Sidney?'

'Yep?'

'What I was saying before.'

'Yep?'

'I do actually want to spend time with you.'

'Well, yeah...'

'No.' Charlotte sighed. 'I mean,  _ not _ shagging. I like  _ you _ .'

His brows furrowed and she would find it charming if not so dense. 'Right.'

'I actually want to hang out with you. Like- ugh, I'm making a mess of this.'

'No, you're not.'

'I almost... I miss my friend Parker. Just getting to joke and talk about all sorts of things. I miss that, weirdly.'

He gave this some careful consideration as he chewed a mouthful of toast. 'Hmm. You're right. So, what do we do?'

'I had an idea.'

'OK.'

'Shower first, of course.'

'Necessary.'

'Yeah. Then we just... hang out at the Coffee Cabin until it's time to meet Milo. Quarter past twelve, you said?'

'Yes. And that sounds good to me.'

'It does?'

'Yeah.' He nudged her bare foot with his own. 'I like hanging out with you too.'

The relief was more palpable than she'd expected. 'Good.'

'We can sit at my table.'

' _ Your _ table? It's not fucking yours-'

He  _ hooted _ with laughter. 'God, you make it easy. How are you so chill about everything except this?'

"Me? You're the one who threw a fit because some girl was already at the table you wanted.'

'Not  _ some _ girl.  _ Hot girl _ .'

'Oh, sod off. You thought I was just some student-'

'Yeah, I thought you were a student, and I was annoyed with myself for being so... drawn to someone so young.'

'No, you were not.'

'Was!'

'You were too annoyed to be- oh,  _ really _ ?'

'Yep. Judge me if you must. I have a very highly developed sense of attraction - or I did. You seem to have smashed it to pieces. And... I have - had, I suppose - a hard rule about students.'

'Which was?'

' _ Don't _ . Too young. And the power inequity and- why are you looking at me like that?'

'You're awesome, Parker.'

He blushed, and it went  _ all _ the way down. 'Well, thank you.'

Charlotte shook her head to cast out the ideas that pinged into her head. 'So... Coffee Cabin in a bit?'

'Yeah. I want to look at the proposal Stringer sent over, too.'

'It's good.'

'Well then, let's get on with it.' He rose up and pointlessly helped her up.

*

Their favourite table was empty when they tumbled into the Coffee Cabin in a shared fit of giggles, bearing newspapers and magazines, and a tube of Pringles.

Mary, stood at the counter, scowled at them. 'You're not eating outside food in my cafe!'

Sidney thrust the tube in her general direction. 'Is now when I remind you that I own half of it?'

' _ Which _ half?' Mary returned. 'The half where you take over, and I get the morning off?'

'Er-'

'I thought so. Gingerbread latte, I suppose?'

'Yes, please!' They answered in unison. Mary rolled her eyes and turned to the coffee machine to get on with it.

'You like gingerbread lattes?' Charlotte asked Sidney. 'How am I only today-years-old and learning this?'

'It's my guilty pleasure.' A pause. 'One of them, anyway. There are others.' He illustrated this point by twining an arm around her.

'Sit down,' Mary instructed. 'I'll bring them over.'

It was not busy, as might be expected at half-past ten on a Monday morning, and they spread themselves out at the big window table. Sidney started with the  _ Guardian's _ business section, while Charlotte went directly to  _ Empire  _ magazine under the guise of cinematic research.

'A Star Wars marathon really is a good idea, you know.'

'Won't be open in time for the new one.'

'No, but... as geeks have inherited the earth, and have money and time they're willing to spend in that direction... it wouldn't hurt.'

'True.' He scowled at something in the paper. 'We should try some of the older, rarer sci-fi as well.'

'Sounds good.' She stifled a laugh at his distractedness. He had taken up a hunched-over position over the table and did not look comfortable. 'Good read?'

'Nope. That arsehole Vanderleyden is making himself more of an arsehole.'

'I have no idea what you're talking about.'

'Nothing. Just... some bankers really are the immoral scumbags of legend.'

'OK.' She tossed  _ Total Film _ at him. "Read that instead.'

'I have to keep abreast-'

'Milo'll be here in less than two hours. Read.'

It was poor logic - Milo wasn't going to quiz them on current releases or reviews of upcoming stuff, but if it meant Sidney stopped scowling so much, she considered it a win.

They settled in like that, laidback and comfortable. Every so often, Sidney remarked upon something he read to make her laugh; slightly more often, he reached down to give her ankle a nudge, until she subconsciously kicked off her sandals and stretched her foot out to rest on the arm of his chair. There, he could keep hold, and in due course, his fingers strayed to her calf, stretching to encompass as much leg as possible.

Mary took their empty latte mugs and replaced them with a pot of steaming hot, fragrant Earl Grey and delicate, pretty cups and saucers that neither one of them actually noticed.

Once finished with  _ Empire _ , Charlotte moved onto  _ Screentrade _ , the trade mag, and learnt more about current trends and concerns than she'd ever thought she'd need to know.

And she felt somewhat out of her depth for a moment. What  _ hubris _ to think she could relaunch a cinema without knowing a damned thing about cinemas except that she  _ cared _ .

The overwhelming feeling started to subside as she read through the magazine - there was nothing she wouldn't understand given time and effort.

'Sidney?

'Yup?' He had taken up  _ Empire _ and had been muttering about one of the Chrises for a moment or two. 

'D'you think Milo would be up for getting a 70mm film projector alongside the usual 35mm. Film, not digital, too.'

'I have no idea what you just said, but if you have a good reason, I don't see why not.'

'OK. We should start considering the programming, too. It takes a while to get some prints.'

'A given.'

'We should try for original prints as much as we can.'

He looked over the top of his magazine, interested now. 'Yeah?' 

'Film geeks will travel for that sort of thing. We have to find reasons to make people come to us, not the Odeon multiplex.'

'Add it to the list, then.'

'I will.' She did so literally, tapping a note into a Trello card on her phone. 'What's Milo really like? He's the only billionaire I've ever met.'

Sidney tossed  _ empire  _ onto the table, leaving the Chris that had been annoying him (Evans) staring up from it. 'He's... a bit odd, as anyone with that much money. But he's straight-talking and generally seems ethical. But he's a squillionaire, and he's used to getting what he wants when he wants it.'

'Which is good for us.'

'For the time being, yes. Don't pander to him, but always remember: he's not like the rest of us.'

' _ You're  _ the rest of us?'

'Extraordinary as it may seem, in this context, I most certainly am.'

'Good grief. How 1% of the 1% live, eh?'

'Yep.'

They settled to quietness again, although Charlotte had shifted in her seat, so her foot was now settled in his warm lap. His fingers correspondingly slid along her calf where they had been so comfortable, reaching the back of her knee. Ticklish Charlotte flinched and earned a laugh from him as she sent her mercifully-empty teacup rattling.

'Oh, sod off.'

At 11:45, James arrived, tanned and healthy and eager to get going, so the trio trooped down the prom to the cinema a little earlier than expected.

Charlotte hadn't been inside since the last meeting with Milo and now got to appreciate the small-scale clear-up that had already begun. The broken fixtures and fittings had gone into the skip already, which meant most of the lobby and box office; seating that was beyond repair had followed, and the hastily-erected 1980s partition walls were almost dismantled.

James had taken over the old manager's office for his own work, although as the furniture was long gone, everything was on a white plastic patio table. 

'Do we get a sneak peek?' Charlotte dared to reach out towards the papers on the table.

James smacked her hand away. 'No touching. But... yeah, go on.' He removed the cover sheet, revealing a set of artists' impressions and blueprints.

Charlotte looked for just a moment before making up her mind: 'Bloody beautiful, James!'

'Won't be cheap. This is the ideal scenario.'

Sidney leaned into Charlotte's space to get a look. 'Good work, Stringer.'

'Glad you think so. Took some inspiration from the grand picture palaces of old, although this place was never all that fancy.

'Charlotte has some thoughts about projectors, too.'

James held up his hands in surrender. 'Not me, guv. I'm just building the place. Up to you what you do inside the projection room. No scope to make it bigger, by the way.'

Charlotte was transfixed by the pictures now she was focused. The public spaces were open and airy: the cheap plaster dome above the lobby replaced by a glass one; the strip lighting replaced by period-suitable brass fittings.

The structurally unsound gallery was gone and a metal replacement cleverly constructed to create only minimal impact on the fabric of the old building.

'Inspired a bit by Alexandra Palace, but we didn't want to lose the back of the stalls, so it's not freestanding. But that back wall's still strong. No reason it can't support this. Much lighter than the one.'

'It looks so good! Even better than I imagined!

'Really great,' Sidney added, resting his chin on her shoulder to get a closer look without disturbing her.

'So,' said James, keen eyes passing between them. 'It's like that now?'

'Oh. Yeah.' Charlotte blushed and felt like she was in a near-constant stage of fucking  _ blushing. _

'And you didn't tell me? I'm  _ hurt _ .' He was joking; he was also telling the truth.

'We haven't actually  _ told _ anyone. It just... sorry.'

'Ah, I'm joking. I can't say I'm altogether surprised. The UST you had going on could've powered the Blackpool Illuminations for the entire season. Now, do you want to see the boring stuff too? Toilets and electrics and whatnot?

'Yeah, of course.'

James took Charlotte and Sidney through all the details and minutiae - he had not missed a single thing. It was a good plan - a gorgeous and interesting restoration that modernised what needed to be modernised; a sympathetic restoration that dodged grandiosity and did not pander to the architect's own modern tastes.

'If Milo doesn't love it, I don't know what to say. You've smashed it, James.'

It was his turn to blush. 'Thanks, Charlotte. Means a lot coming from you.'

*

The roar of Lamborghini engines heralded Milo's arrival, sending a sudden nervous spike up Sidney's spine. 

Sure enough, they went outside to find him and a guest climbing out of the lime green monster of a car.

'Parker!' Milo shouted. 'Good to see you! Fuck me, the traffic in London is hell!'

'You made it, though.'

'I reckon I've got half a dozen speeding tickets coming my way!' He was not remotely bothered by this. 

'Hello, Sidney!'

Sidney was prepared this time and met Eliza's gaze without feeling. 'Eliza.'

'I haven't been home in years! And gosh, James Stringer!' She foisted an overdone hug on reluctant, surprised James. 'You look amazing! Not at all the scrawny lad I remember!'

'What brings you here?' James asked, and Sidney was grateful to not have to ask.

'Oh! It's the funniest thing! I ran into Milo, and we got talking about this little project. Well, I thought of all the happy times we had here - you remember, Sidney! - and just had to throw my hat in the ring alongside!'

Sidney sighed. Just his fucking luck. Was he never to be free of her? Was she after a second billionaire and her quest just  _ happened _ to push him into unfortunate proximity?

It certainly made more sense than her wanting  _ him _ again... but his phone was warm in his pocket, any recent messages from her still waiting to be ignored.

Charlotte smiled blandly at Eliza, then with more warmth at Milo. 'Shall we go inside? We can't wait to show you what magic James has conjured!'

*


	33. Face the Music & Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not so much a chapter as a playlist...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said I would...

Not really a chapter, but hopefully welcome. This is essentially the playlist Sidney came up with. It's uncurated in the sense that it's in no particular order and you probably wouldn't want to listen to it in this order, given that there's several kinds of feels going on here.

It's an entirely incomplete list, created as things occurred to me, just as it would for his nibs.

Enjoy!


	34. The Dunes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks so much for your fab comments so far!
> 
> If this feels a bit filler-ish, my apologies. I tried and failed to write at all yesterday, spent much of today asleep or at the gym, and managed to grind this out between Costa and home while high winds and rain battered both. 
> 
> Hopefully though, there is enough to move the story on a smidge and enough to make you laugh or smile or otherwise feel that the time you spend reading was not wasted.

Eliza looked Charlotte up and down, appraising her like a cynical diamond merchant presented with cubic zirconia. 'Have we met before? You look familiar.'

Charlotte returned the gaze without flinching or withering. 'Not formally. Charlotte Heywood. I'm the project lead on behalf of Sanditon Regeneration Ltd. You are?'

It was a cheap shot, of course. Still, Charlotte wasn't going to be done out of a proper introduction to _ Eliza Campion _.

Eliza held out an unenthusiastic hand to shake. She gave her name as if complete recognition was a given: 'Eliza Campion.'

'And you're investing alongside Milo? Well, let's go and show you the current concepts.' Charlotte turned and started back towards the manager's office without bothering to wait for a reply.

'Oh, Sidney, the state of this place!' Eliza cried out mournfully. 'Not at all what I remember.'

'It's been derelict since 1998,' he replied. Charlotte couldn't help but smile at the hard note in his voice. 'What were you expecting?'

'Just such a shame!'

'Well,' said James - god bless James - as they climbed the stairs. 'That's what we're here for.'

The choreography of the room pushed Charlotte back against the wall while the new guests crowded around the table. 

'Stonking stuff, mate,' Milo said to James. 'I like it. Especially that dome.'

'We get so many storms here,' said Eliza. 'Will the glass stand up to them?'

'You can drop a full-size car on that particular kind of glass without so much as a scratch,' James replied. 'It'll be fine in the vast majority of storms. And the exceptional ones would trash it whatever it was made of.'

'It's nice. I like the gallery,' Milo said. 'Bit of modern in amongst the throwbacks.'

'That's what we thought,' James said, totally in business mode. 'I've got a contact who can source original 1930s brass sconces, but the decision is yours.'

'Not cheap?' Milo guessed.

'Nope.'

'Well, I trust you to do the right thing.' Milo shook James' hand heartily. 'Bloody good job, mate.'

'Thanks.'

'What about an opening date?' Eliza asked. 'When can we expect that?'

James sighed. 'I don't want to give you an estimate until we've finished stabilising and stripping back. Too many potential unwelcome surprises.'

'What's the bare minimum?' Milo asked, his attention back on the gallery plans again.

'The last renovation did most of the stabilisation, but there's work needed on the back walls and part of the roof. Then we need to strip out all the old plasterwork and flooring. There's repointing needed in places. The dome has to be replaced no matter what you replace it with. There's some rewiring to do, mostly on what wasn't replaced in the 80s. We should probably add a generator - solar panels on the roof, too - and then we need to rebuild some internal walls, replaster everything, replace some of the flooring; new seats, new screen, new projectors - Charlotte's got the details for that - and new toilets, Box Office and concessions.'

'Sounds like so much work!' Eliza said. 'Why not just demolish the place and start again?'

Charlotte glared; Sidney and James stared; Milo scowled.

'You don't knock down historic buildings if you don't have to,' he replied. 'Inherent energy in it alone. Stringer, this is a bloody good plan. It takes how long it takes - but it would be nice to have it ready for the next spring/summer season. Money is no object - get as many hands on it as you need. Charlotte, I suppose you're in charge of the details other than the rebuild?'

'Yep.'

'All I need from you is a weekly update. Otherwise, do what you need to do. I only need to approve costs over £5,000, just to keep an eye.'

'Of course.'

'Include me on the updates,' Eliza said. 'I'm very interested in progress.'

'Just as soon as we have the paperwork through confirming your investment, Mrs Campion,' Charlotte replied. 'If you like, I'll have the office email you the project docs.'

Charlotte, James and Sidney knew that "the office" was Charlotte herself, but nobody told on her. Indeed, Sidney threw her a little smirk. 

Eliza shrugged. 'Sounds good. Sidney!'

'Yes?'

'Will you show me around town? It's been so long, and I can't wait to see the changes.'

'Well, we're in the middle of-'

'Oh, I'm sure Charlotte has everything in hand. Come along-'

'Once we're done here, maybe,' Sidney replied, now avoiding Charlotte's gaze. 'Milo, anything else you want to see while you're here?'

'Just a quick whiz around the site would be good. Get a look at the fabric of the building.'

So it was that they took in the whole site, from the plant room to the projection room; from the toilets to the void behind the screen.

*

'I've got a good feeling about this place, Parker,' Milo told Sidney as they emerged into the sunlight again. 'A very good feeling.'

'Good.'

'Will you be directly involved?'

'If you want me to.'

'I do. I like that Heywood, but she's not got much experience with this sort of thing. None, in fact. I've no problem with that, but she will need some support.'

Sidney had to tamp down the urge to hug Milo. 'Yep, that's fine.'

'Good man. And... keep an eye on _her_.' Milo's glance flickered over to Eliza. 'My people did the due diligence, and I'm sure it's all good but... even I don't get people showing up to just hand out money.'

'I'm not the right person to ask about her.'

'Because she fucked you over, right?'

'Basically.'

'That's what my due diligence told me.'

'Of course it did.' Sidney sighed. Was it impossible to keep anything private any more? 'But... I don't know what she wants now. I've never known her to be actively dishonest, so... I dunno.'

'Ah, mate.' Milo slapped Sidney on the shoulder. 'I'm just an old cynic. It's all good, I reckon. But if it's not, you tell me.'

'Will do. Are you going back to London?'

'Nah, not straight away. Got invited to that health club down the road.'

'Ah, it's nice.'

'Yeah, well I won't turn down a freebie. Now, I'm off to Paris tomorrow so I'll see you sometime after that.'

'I'll ask my assistant to get a meeting set up.'

'Good man. See you soon.'

It seemed faintly ridiculous to Sidney that Milo should travel all the way to Sanditon for a half-hour meeting and a trip to the health club. Still, as Milo had been in Mustique a few days previously and was off to Paris, he clearly had a different idea about travel.

'Sidney!' Eliza called. 'How about that tour?'

'Aren't you going with Milo?'

'Oh, no rush. I should go and see my granny, I suppose. But first, a tour!'

'Well, I'm not the best person for that. I'm hardly ever here. Charlotte, why don't you do the honours?'

As soon as the suggestion was out of his mouth, he knew it was a bad one. He'd only meant to _include _Charlotte and avoid being alone with Eliza. From the disdainful contempt on Eliza's face and the fallen disappointment on Charlotte's, he'd got it wrong.

'Sure,' Charlotte replied. 'If you want. It won't take long; Sanditon's only little.'

'We could end in the Cabin for tea though,' he suggested. 'If you're not sick of the place.'

She allowed him the tiniest of smiles then. 'I could never be sick of the Cabin, Sidney.'

Eliza looked between them. 'Do you know, I think I'll head off with Milo after all. I should get back to town.'

'Yeah, fine.' Sidney didn't look back at her even as she climbed into the passenger seat of Milo's Lambo. 'I could still do with a tour, Miss Heywood.'

'A tour of_ what_, though?'

'Well, it's a lovely day. I don't have to be back in London until later.' 

'Yeah?'

'I haven't been along the dunes in the longest time. A walk along there sounds... quite nice.'

'Quite nice?'

'Yeah. Something along those lines.' He held out a hand. 'I might even buy you an ice cream on the way back.'

'With such inducement, how can I say no?' She took his hand. 'Come on, then.'

The walk along the dunes _was _quite nice. They rambled and scrambled until they had to pause for breath. Charlotte slid down a dune to sit down, and he followed.

'It's really happening,' she said. 'The cinema, I mean.'

'Yeah.'

'I can hardly believe it. It's not that long ago that you were screaming in my face for even suggesting it.'

'I was wrong, and I apologised-'

'Oh, I'm not having a go. Just... life sometimes moves very quickly in some very strange directions.'

'Regretting it?'

'No, you dick. Just... feel like I need to take a breath.'

'Well...' He cleared his throat, trying to buy time to avoid saying the wrong thing. 'Take a breath, then.'

'It's like you said the other week... that I don't want to rush because it means more than... well... I don't know what I'm trying to say. Just... it's all happening very fast. And it's not bad! But... it's an adjustment, I suppose.'

'An adjustment.'

'I've been on my own all this time, Sidney. I don't know how to do this and not lose my own self in it.'

'I see.' He did not actually see, but he wanted very much to give her space to share. 'I think so, anyway.'

She reached out to take his hand. 'I'm sorry.'

'Why are you sorry? You have nothing to be sorry for.'

'I feel very... childish. In comparison to Eliza or those other wom-'

'Stop. You're not childish! You're... _ perfect _ .' He leaned in to rest his forehead on hers. 'You're _perfect _as far as I'm concerned, and I'm sorry that I'm so... that I can't... I mean, I'm nobody's ideal boyfriend.'

It was, he realised rather late, the first time that word had been invoked. 

'Aren't you?' she whispered. 'You seem pretty ideal to me. Imperfectly perfect. And that's what scares me. How the fuck do I know what ideal even _is_? I didn't learn all those messy lessons when everyone else did. I was in all those nightclubs and uni parties, but I wasn't part of it.'

'Nothing wrong with that. Trust me on that.'

'I feel like I'm losing my sense of perspective.'

'OK.' He felt very much like he was about to be given some terrible news. He moved away a little, although she kept hold of his hands. 'I mean... OK.'

'You look like I'm about to hand you a death warrant, Parker! I'm just trying to be honest.'

'Yeah.' He could not help the feeling of ice running down his spine.

'I think the next few days apart will be good,' she said. 'Not the being apart, but the existing as individuals part.'

'Yeah, OK.'

'And then I'll come up to London with Gigi and Bella on Thursday.'

'Yeah.'

'Sidney.'

'Yeah?'

'I think you need some space too. You've... well, you've never done this bit either, right?'

This was entirely true. The cold sensation in his spine began to warm. 'No... I don't suppose I have.'

'Sidney, please look at me.'

He did and immediately hated himself for the stricken expression that he had put on her face. 

'It's because I really don't want to fuck up that I'm saying this.'

'I know.' He did know, really he did. 'Nor do I. I, uh... that is to say... does that look like a storm coming?'

'Don't change the subject, but-' She looked up. 'Actually, yes, it does a bit.'

The previously clear blue sky was increasingly taken over by a broad swathe of dark cloud; the wind picked up and brought the darkness closer. They'd been so caught up that they'd neither of them noticed it happening until it was almost upon them.

'How long do you think we've got?' she asked. 

He stood and held a hand out to help her up. 'I don't really want to find out.'

She grinned and pulled her hair back. 'Last one back's a rotten egg?'

They ran, feet sinking into the soft dunes. It was raining by the time they reached the beach and by the time they were howling with laughter and tumbling through the door at Waterloo Terrace, they were soaked through to the skin.

Charlotte peeled her wet t-shirt and shorts off and dropped them onto the kitchen floor. 'I'll put the kettle on to make something hot. Coffee? Tea?'

'Get in the shower, I'll do it.'

'Sidney-' Her teeth were already chattering, and she shivered in a way that was at once enticing and concerning.

'Just do it.'

'Tea then, please.' She disappeared into the bathroom then. 

Sidney put the kettle on, readying the teapot as he did. He pulled his soaking shirt over his head and winced as he took off his jeans and the fibres scratched against his skin. 

While the kettle boiled and Charlotte showered, he unfolded the clothes airer and hung up their wet clothes. He grabbed the biggest towel he could find in the airing cupboard and was ready with it when she emerged from the shower, pink-cheeked and warm. 

She squeaked with surprise as he wrapped her in the towel and conveniently forgot to let go.

'Feel better?' he asked, her hair tickling his nose.

'Much. Your turn.'

He did not let go, enjoying the warmth radiating off her too much. 'Ah, in a minute.'

'Sidney, much as I love you cluttering up my house in nothing but a pair of boxers, I don't want you to catch a cold.' She twisted in his arms to press a kiss to his shoulder. 'Go.'

The shower was beautifully warm, although the pressure left something to be desired. He'd have to speak to her landlord about improving that...

A steaming mug of tea was waiting for him when he was done, as was a still-towel-beshrouded Charlotte. She was curled up on the sofa, eyes fluttering closed.

'Tired, love?' he asked.

'Hmm. A bit.'

'Then, sleep.' Sidney bent to kiss her forehead.

'Will you still be here when I wake up?'

'If you want me to be.'

She yawned. 'I do.'

'Then, I shall be.' 

*

Charlotte woke up wearing a t-shirt of Sidney's that she had no recollection of putting on, covered by a blanket she had no memory of gathering.

A moment of confusion passed quickly when she turned and saw Sidney draped over her armchair, fast asleep. He had one arm draped over his face and the other hand skimming the floor.

A wave of fondness swept over her as surely as the storm outside had washed over Sanditon.

A glance at the time swept any good feelings away: between sand dunes and sleeping, most of the day was gone. She slid off the sofa and after a moment to orientate herself, stood and went to Sidney.

She shook him gently. 'Sidney... wake up.'

He didn't respond at first.

'Sidney, wake up! You need to get home...'

He mumbled something and tried to turn but, being in an armchair, almost fell out of the chair entirely. 'What time is it?'

'Nearly quarter to six.'

He groaned, trying and failing to stretch out in the chair.

'You want to stay and drive up first thing in the morning?'

'God, yes.' Sidney yawned again and rolled off the chair onto his knees. He leaned into her, forehead against her belly in a manner she found oddly endearing. 'I'll have to leave really early. I don't want to disturb you-'

'You won't.' Charlotte ran her hands through his hair. 'I don't think there's much in the fridge to eat, so I'll order pizza-'

'I've got a better idea.'

*

Twenty minutes later, they sat on the sea wall with fish and chips in newspaper.

Charlotte nudged his shoulder. 'This was a good idea.'

'I'm a genius.'

'If you call yourself a genius, are you really a genius?'

'Well, if I'm a genius, surely I'm qualified to make such judgements.'

'If you say so, love.'

'I do.' He rested his head against hers. 'I'm here with you instead of sitting in a traffic jam. That's genius.'

'That was also my idea.'

'So you're a genius too.'

'I have my moments.'

'Are you feeling better?'

'Better?'

'After our conversation before the storm.'

'Oh.' Charlotte shifted, having hoped he'd left that alone. 'Yeah. Probably. I mean, right now in this very moment? We are all good.'

'Good.' He grabbed a chip from her pile. 

'Dude! You have a whole pile of fucking chips _ right there _.'

'Yeah, but stolen chips taste better.' He tossed it into his mouth and chewed in the most obnoxious manner possible. 'It is known.'

She snatched one of his then. He'd put too much vinegar on, and definitely too much salt. Not better. 'Ha! You buggered up yours and now want mine?'

'Guilty.'

'Dick.'

'Also true.'

'Want to share my _ non-wrecked_, gloriously flavoursome chips, Parker?'

'Yes, please.'

'It'll cost you.'

'What?'

'I've got a list.'

'How _terrible _for me.'

*

Sidney did end up waking Charlotte when he got up to leave at five.

'Sorry,' he whispered, planting a kiss to the one part of her head uncovered by the duvet. 'Go back to sleep.'

'I'll kill you on Thursday, maybe,' she mumbled. 'Drive safely.'

'I promise. Call you later?'

'Much later.'

'Of course.'

Sidney left as quietly as he could, wincing at how the Aston's engine roared into the early morning peace. The traffic gods accepted the sacrifice of his sleep, and he arrived home just before the rush hour really got going. 

He had not even glanced at his phone during the whole journey - he had promised, after all, to drive safely. He had several messages, one of which made him smile, one of which made his sigh and the third of which made him nearly launch the phone out of the window.

** Heywood: **Are you home OK?

He tapped out a quick message to say yes.

** Tom (Parker): **DID YOu meet MilO shaw wIthoUT Me?!

He replied that it had been a last-minute thing, which was not true. Still, a necessary kindness to avoid the conversation he did not want to have about Tom's actual business prowess.

** E: **That girl is delightful, darling. Very competent.

Sidney did not reply.

*


	35. Pudding Tummy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the comments on the last chapter.
> 
> Another one now... I hope to have the next part of a Brief Visit to Scotland up soon but... let's see.

Time passed at once very slowly and all at once after Sidney's return to London early on Tuesday morning.

Charlotte returned to her usual Spin Class-> Work->Sanditon->Sleep-> Repeat routine, punctuating it with visits to the Coffee Cabin and Trafalgar House. She hadn't the time to play with the small ones or hang out with Georgiana very much until Wednesday evening when Mary insisted on her coming to dinner.

The children were already at the table, impatiently waiting for food or her, whichever arrived first. Henry bounced up from his booster seat to sit on her lap, and he nestled into her hug with a satisfied hum.

Alicia had a question that had evidently been bothering her for a while: 'Charlotte?' 

'Yes, my lovely?'

'Are you and Uncle Sidney going to get married?'

'Alicia!' Mary called from the kitchen. 'That's not a question we ask people, is it?'

'Charlotte isn't _ people _, she's Charlotte! Are you, Charlotte?'

'No, Alicia. As far as I'm aware right now, I am not marrying Uncle Sidney.' It was the truth, phrased just so... 

Georgiana smirked from her place at the other end of the table. She'd finished her book about Greta Garbo and was onto something about the Hollywood Sewing Circle.

'But,' Alicia pressed on. 'You are boyfriend and girlfriend? And you kiss and things?'

Charlotte dearly wanted the answer to be yes, but something stuck in her throat. Georgiana raised an eyebrow in challenge, and for a moment Charlotte wanted to throttle her for being so much _ better _ at life at 17 than she was at 25.

She took a deep breath. What were they, if _ not _ "boyfriend and girlfriend"? They were nothing so casual or fleeting as anyone in the previous decade of Sidney's life. They were by no means on the verge of being as serious and grown-up as getting married.

'Yes,' Charlotte said. 'We are.'

The squeals of delight from Jenny and Alicia were almost too much.

Henry cuddled closer. 'You're my favourite,' he said. 'You and Uncle Siddy are my favourites.'

He said this with all the young solemnity of a four-year-old who has discovered a profound truth in life. Charlotte smiled and kissed the top of his head.

Maybe there was something to it. Or perhaps she was just _ twitterpated _, and her brain was no longer entirely her own.

'Mummy!" Jenny called out. 'When can we eat? I'm _ starrrving! _'

'We're waiting for Daddy, as well you know. He won't be very long.'

'We waited _ ages _ for him yesterday and he was so late that we ate on our own anyway,' Jenny grumbled. 'Why don't we just eat now?'

'Because,' Mary actually looked around the doorframe. 'It's not kind, is it?'

'Daddy's not kind for being away _ all the time _!' Jenny snapped back.

Charlotte longed to ask what was going on, but there was no way she'd do it in front of the children. Gigi seemed to still be reading intently, but a furrow had formed in her brow.

A moment passed then Mary sighed. 'Fine.'

Food was served within moments and to their credit, the Parker children ate quietly and happily, tucking into hot spaghetti carbonara like the treat it was.

Tom arrived as Henry was declaring himself _ 'full _, Mummy!'

'No ice cream, then-'

'My pudding tummy isn't full!' he cried with all seriousness. Alicia and Jenny, being so much more mature, giggled at him. 

'Family!' Tom thrust his arms out in greeting and appeared disappointed when they didn't respond as hoped, distracted as they were by food and potential ice cream.

'You're very late, Tom,' Mary said, all false lightness. 'We saved you some.'

'Ah, good stuff! Smells grand!'

'Was there a problem?' Mary pressed on.

'Oh, conference call with Milo, Sidney and James about the cinema.'

Charlotte's ears pricked up: 'What's up?'

'Oh, nothing's up. Just talking about the finances and some of that sort of boring stuff.'

'Did I miss a meeting request?' Charlotte asked, feeling very cold inside.

'Isn't the cinema Charlotte's project?' Gigi asked, projecting something like innocent curiosity and meaning none of it. 'Weird she wasn't there.'

'Oh,' Tom shrugged out of his light summer jacket and into his seat. Mary plonked a bowl of carbonara down in front of him. 'It was just a senior base-touching thing. Nothing you needed to worry about.'

'Well,' Charlotte glanced at the contented children. 'It's my project so I will worry about everything. It would've helped to at least know you were talking to them. I might have been able to give you some helpful context.'

'Oh, it was fine.' Tom shoved his fork roughly into his food. 'Nothing to worry about.'

Gigi snorted.

'Fine. Well... I'd really better get back home. Gigi, we're on the 12:57 train tomorrow. I'll probably be working almost right up to then, so I'll meet you at the station.'

'OK. See you tomorrow.' Gigi still seemed to be engrossed, but sent Charlotte a look that was one of cheesed-off solidarity, which was appreciated. 

At home, Charlotte paced around for a few minutes to get her thoughts in order. It was one thing for Tom to undermine her - he probably hadn't made a conscious decision to do it and hadn't twigged that it was a dick move...

But James? _ Sidney _? That was a horse of a different colour altogether.

On cue, her phone blasted the FaceTime alert into the room. She grabbed at it: Sidney, of course.

He looked tired. 'Hey.'

'Hello.'

'I take it from your tone that you found out about Tom's secret meeting?'

'Recently, yes.'

'Before you say anything, please know that I didn't know you weren't involved and as soon as it was evident he hadn't invited you, I said you should be there. As did Stringer, of course. But Tom will Tom and it was easier to just let him blather.'

'Of course,' Charlotte seethed. 'We mustn't make the rich white dude uncomfortable. Meanwhile, I have no fucking clue or control over my own fucking project!'

'Breathe.'

'Don't tell me to breathe, Parker.'

'I am sorry. We tried. If it's any consolation, Milo is even less impressed with him than he was before and has made it very clear that the lines of communication come through you.'

'For as long as you lot feel like.'

'Charlotte, please. No decisions were made. Nothing substantive was spoken of.'

'And yet, I wasn't even told it was happening. Would you have said anything if I hadn't already known?'

'Yes.' The answer was immediate and sincere, which helped. 'Of course. Tom feels rather left out of this one and wanted to stick his oar in. Won't happen again. I'm going to make sure he's too distracted with the pavilion for the time being.'

'And yet he continues on his merry Tom way, never having to face up to his significant weaknesses.'

'Charlotte, he's still my brother.'

'And he's my dear friend. I do truly like him very much. But instead of _ sticking his oar in _, he could've been eating dinner with his children.'

'Yeah.' The _ weak wifi _ warning popped up for a moment. Sidney ran a hand through his hair. 'I'll try and get through to him.'

'Good luck.'

'How are you otherwise?'

'All right.'

'Yeah?'

'I miss you.'

'I miss you too. Less than a day, though.'

'True. Just me you and two seventeen-year-old girls.'

'I've got a table at a very nice restaurant for us all. Place in the city with a roof garden.'

'Sounds nice.' An awkward silence that Charlotte knew she'd introduced herself. 'Alicia asked me a really weird question earlier.'

'Yeah?'

'She wanted to know if we were getting married.'

He laughed. 'She asked me that the other day.'

'What did you say?'

'Not at the moment.' He cleared his throat. 'Somehow... please don't take this wrong... but "no" seemed too final and therefore not entirely honest.'

Her heart leapt up into her throat and then crashed down into the pit of her stomach and carried on until it left her body and smashed into the floor and splattered red gunge across the room. At least, that was the immediate feeling.

'You've gone very pale,' he said. 'I didn't mean to freak you out. I'm not saying I want to marry you this very moment but... I'd also be lying if I hadn't thought - entirely theoretically - that it might be waiting somewhere in the future.'

'Oh, yeah.'

'Apparently, I only have two modes: commitment-phobic and the exact opposite. I'm sorry.'

'It's OK. Just... you're not _ wrong _ but I just... it's peculiar to say it out loud. Even though I had thought about it - entirely theoretically - too.'

'So, I'll wait to propose until next week?' God bless him for making a joke.

'If you would; I'm very busy this week.'

'I'll have my assistant put something in my calendar. Now, while I remember: I want to do something nice for Gigi when she gets her results. I'm sure they'll be excellent and so it'll be congratulations... but in case they're not, I want to do something nice. But what?'

'Whatever it is, you should invite Bella too.'

'OK. Charlotte...'

'Yep?'

'Is Gigi in love with Bella, do you think?'

She considered this thoughtfully. 'Could be. On the other hand, I can attest that it's possible to be absolutely ride-or-die and inseparable with a best friend and have it be absolutely platonic.'

'Yeah. I don't _ mind _, you know. I just wondered and I suppose she'd tell you before she told me.'

'Yet it's _ adorable _ that you think I'd ever break such a confidence.'

'True. But the fact remains I need to think about what she might like to do.'

'She likes doing cheesy typical teenage things, given that she's never actually been a typical teenager. Another visit to London wouldn't go amiss.'

'I was afraid you'd say that.'

'Why are you so loathe to let her loose in London. She's not an idiot-'

'Gigi is very young, very trusting and exceedingly wealthy. Do you know how many kidnap threats she's had in her life? Nine.'

'God.'

'Yeah. It's actually been better since Richie died because nobody's quite sure who to send the ransom note to so they don't bother. Sanditon is small and self-contained, but if you think I don't have people keeping an eye out, you're mad.'

'You do?'

'Chas, for one. The train station crew are on a discreet retainer to report any suspicious activity to the local constabulary. As are Mary and Tom, of course.'

'You never asked me.'

'Oh Heywood,' he chuckled. 'I never had to ask you to look after Gigi. You did that all by yourself.'

She returned the laugh and finally felt her spine relax. 'That's true...'

'I'm glad you did. She's... She's still the same Gigi she's always been but seems... more at ease. Mind you, I could say the same. What magic is it you have, woman?'

'Oh, I'm a witch, Parker. I bewitched you. There can be no other explanation.'

'Yeah, I can't think of any winning qualities you have that might attract one such as I.'

'No indeed.'

'I can think of two.'

'Of course you can.'

'Your _ eyes _.'

'Parker...'

'Yes?'

'Don't start something you can't finish.'

'I'm not.'

'Really?'

'I may not finish it _ today _, but soon... very soon.'

'Ah, promises, promises.'

'I always keep my promises, Heywood. You know that.'

She did. 'Sidney, I'd better sign off soon. I need to start work early tomorrow to leave when we intend to.'

'Fine. Leave me here all alone like some loser.'

'I don't want to. But I must.'

'Fine.' He disappeared from the screen briefly - she realised after a moment that he had flopped down onto his bed and after a moment his head reappeared, a pillow as background. 'Good night, Charlotte. Sweet dreams.'

'Back atcha. See you tomorrow.'

'You will.'

*

Gigi was practically vibrating with excitement when Charlotte reached her on Platform 1 of Sanditon railway station at 12:49 on Thursday afternoon.

The train rattled into place at 12:51 and they had a few minutes to find seats in the first carriage and get settled before it then pulled out of the station at 12:57 precisely.

'God,' Gigi slouched in her seat. 'I thought this would never happen!'

'Because you are as overdramatic as all teenager should be.'

'Were you?'

'Nope. Not outwardly, anyway. I left that to Lucy.'

'She sounds awesome. I mean- sorry.'

'It's all right. She was. You are a little like her. Or rather, if she'd had the same opportunities, she might be a little like you.'

'That's... really nice.' Gigi's phone buzzed. 'When does the train get int Tunbridge? Ugh. Fine.'

'What?

'Bella says her sister invited herself to dinner.'

'That's OK.'

'No, it isn't. She's not cool and it's _not cool _to do that. You're too kind sometimes.'

'Nah. I just don't see the point in wasting energy on it. But if the restaurant can't change the reservation, I won't weep.'

'Is _ Sidney _ coming?'

'He says so. If he can leave work early enough.'

The rest of the journey passed quickly enough, with some conversation and some companionable silences. Bella joined them at Tunbridge Wells and Charlotte was happy to listen to them chatter endlessly about the things that interested them - something about Billie Eilish for the most part - and surreptitiously check her phone for messages.'

'What's Sid say?' Gigi asked, not far from Victoria.

'What?'

'You keep smirking at your phone. I assume therefore that you're in communication with my dick-bag of a guardian.'

'Oh. Well, yeah. And don't call him that; it's not nice or fair.'

God, the giggling was high-pitched.'

'Are you two seventeen or seven?'

'Chronological age as a marker of intellectual or emotional development is a social construct,' said Bella. 'We are individuals capable of thinking and feeling complex emotions based on context as much as any adult. Generally speaking, the challenge is in expressing them sufficiently.'

'I went to uni with people that talk like you.' Charlotte sighed. 'Are we there yet?

More giggling.

*

They arrived ten minutes later and were pleasantly surprised to find Sidney Parker leaning against a _Metro _newspaper unit. Charlotte dearly wanted to leap at him but the teasing would be too much, so she hung back as Gigi and Bella tackled him and shoved their bags at him alongside a barrage of curious questions about plans, the London Underground and the city in general.

'You'd think they'd never been before,' he joked.'

'Hardly _ever_,' Gigi snapped. 'Thanks to you.'

'Don't be so dramatic.'

'Coming from _you_? That's a compliment.'

'You can carry your own bag, you know.'

'But you do such a good job of it.'

'I'm good for something then?'

'Almost nothing.' Gigi nudged Sidney in the shoulder. 'Can we go now?'

The tube was uncomfortably warm all the way to Russell Square, from where they walked to the house.

In the hallway, Bella paused. 'This is really nice. Thank you for letting me stay, Sidney.'

'You're welcome. Although, you really should thank Charlotte for playing actual chaperone.'

They dutifully paid exuberant praise and gratitude upon Charlotte until she cried for mercy.

'Help yourselves to food in the kitchen,' Sidney told them. 'I even got some terrible junky rubbish for you.'

This set off another round of gratitude.

'Yeah, yeah, I get it. Charlotte, let me take your bag up-'

A round of teen giggles that stopped upon seeing the ferocious expression on Sidney's face. 'Yeah, you're going to need to stop that immediately. Don't make me farm you out to a Travelodge.'

They passed a pleasant afternoon; Gigi and Bella stormed down to the pool and hot tub like they needed to reserve loungers at a Costa Del Sol resort. Sidney earnt more gratitude by mixing sickly pink mocktails for them and piping suitably tropical music into the basement. 

'That,' he said, coming back upstairs to the kitchen 'should keep them occupied for a while.'

She was leaning against the granite counter when he pounced, boxing her in against the counter before lifting her up onto it. 'I missed you.'

'Same.' She initiated a kiss that started amorously and got worse. 'We can't just... go upstairs, can we?'

'Can we?' he asked in echo, pupils blown wide.

'I don't think so. Ethically, if you will. No... can we?'

He sighed. 'No... and we really don't have long before going out to dinner and I intend to take my time... But there's a perfectly comfortable sofa in the living room that I happen to know fits us both very snugly.'

'True.'

'And I want to hear about your week. Did you... did you speak to Tom at all?'

'Nope.'

They moved into the living room, where Sidney flicked on the TV and they settled down in a warm embrace upon the sofa.

*

At seven o'clock, the Parker-led group arrived on the 21st floor of the Duckbill Building, where the_ Sunrise/Sunset _restaurant sat, half inside and half on the long, narrow terrace with gorgeous views of the river in one direction and St Paul's dome in another.

Sidney had, unfortunately, been able to amend the booking to add another person, and as he'd said to Charlotte while getting ready, he realised too late he could've just pretended it wasn't possible. 

So it was that at twenty past seven, Jemima arrived.

Gigi and Bella had spent most of the twenty minutes taking pictures of the view, selfies with the view, selfies with Charlotte with the view, and selfies with a much more reluctant Sidney and the view.

'Ah, there you are!' Jemima swished out of the restaurant onto the terrace, dressed rather more formally than what was essentially a family night out would require. 'Sidney, Gigi, lovely to see you again! And Charlotte, of course.'

'And Zoidberg?' Charlotte replied, earning a confused blink from Jemima. 'Never mind. Hello again. Are you going out after this?'

Jemima blinked again. 'Pardon?'

'That's an amazing dress.'

'Oh, this? A friend designed it. Isn't it _darling_?'

'Can we order soon?' Gigi asked. 'I'm _starving _!'

Sidney barked out a laugh. 'You practically inhaled a kilogram of sweets and you're still hungry?'

'Didn't you know that sweets go in your pudding tummy?' Gigi replied, earning a laugh from Charlotte and confusion from everyone else.

'Henry made that argument at dinner yesterday,' Charlotte explained, and she loved the brilliant, affectionate smile that spread over Sidney's face at thought of it.

'Do you know,' he replied. 'Tom and I made that argument to our mother once. We really thought we'd come up with something brand new and unarguable.'

'What did she do?'

'She went and got our copy of Gray's Anatomy from the library, demonstrated that we were wrong and also put us off eating anything for several hours at sight of the illustrations.'

'Your mum's really clever.'

'Yes.' Sidney's gaze slid away to the distance a moment. 'She was.'

'Oh, I'm sorry-'

'It's all right.' he grinned. 'What are you getting? Have you even looked at the menu yet?'

They had not even picked up their menus at that point, and so made a great show of doing so.

Gigi and Bella's theatrical parody of posh people and fine dining was hilarious but didn't get them any closer to ordering, to the concealed consternation of the wait staff.

It was "modern European" fare, which to Charlotte seemed to mean "vaguely defined food designed for fashion more than taste while also appropriating from other cultures without credit". 

'What's_ samphire_?' Bella asked.

'It's a plant a bit like seaweed,' Sidney replied, still perusing his own menu.

Finally, everyone was ready to order. Gigi and Bella tried very hard to be cool about being allowed a small glass of wine each, but did not succeed.

'So, Sidney,' Jemima said as they waited for starters. 'How's things? It's been _ages_.'

'Has it? Well... same old, I suppose. You?'

'I'm very well. I'll almost certainly make partner in the next few months.'

'That's excellent,' he said, not much emotion in the response, which made Charlotte bite her lip to hide a smirk.

It wasn't kind but Jemima really was doing the _most. _

Starters arrived and more photos were taken and shared immediately on Instagram. Conversation was dominated by Gigi and Bella's chatter about London, their Friday plans and their hopes and fears for their exam results.

This suited Charlotte, who was content to mostly listen. At one point, Sidney's foot nudged hers and she nudged back, but she did not dare do anything more to either inspire more teenage teasing or share even one scrap of it with Jemima.

Her instincts proved correct when, while waiting for dessert, Jemima casually dropped a little information bomb.

'Oh Sidney, I quite forgot! Eliza says hello.'

'Eliza?' Gigi asked.

'My dear friend Eliza is staying with me at the moment. She and Sidney-'

'I know who she is,' Gigi snapped back. 'You have shit taste in friends.'

'Gigi,' Sidney shook his head at her. 'That's unnecessary.'

Jemima sipped her wine and, to Charlotte's mind, seemed to weigh up the pros and cons of scolding Gigi and went with _not_ doing so. 'Interesting.'

'Not really,' Sidney replied. 'My family has a long collective memory, that's all. Now, tomorrow. If you want to go to the Kensington museums tomorrow, we ought to leave early. Can you get up, do you think?'

'Why don't we just stay up all night?' Gigi suggested.

'I cannot recommend that course of action,' he replied 'but do what you're going to do.'

'Challenge accepted!'

'I don't accept the challenge,' Bella dared to contradict her best friend. 'I like sleep.'

While the conversation moved on, Charlotte took this new information and worked through it in her mind. What did Jemima know about her and Sidney and what had she passed onto Eliza? Had she facilitated Eliza's sudden reappearance in Sidney's life? To what _end? _

Hell, what did_ any of it _actually mean? What did Eliza actually _want_? Was it all just a ginormous coincidence and none of it mean a damned thing?

She caught Jemima staring at her, calculating and perhaps even spiteful. 

None of it, she was sure, was coincidental. She didn't have to know what was going on to know that.

*

Sidney had felt uncomfortable all night. Since Jemima invited herself along, in truth. He was not much clearer about her motives than Eliza's, but at least she seemed not interested in him for her own purposes now.

Was that good or bad? 

'You seem far away.'

He blinked. Charlotte was talking to him. They'd arrived home a short while ago; the girls had claimed the living room for themselves for the rest of the night and so he and Charlotte had bid them a good night and retreated to the safety and seclusion of his room at the top of the house.

'Sorry.'

'What's the matter?'

'Jemima. What's her game?'

'I don't know, but if she treats me like an afterthought one more time...'

'Sorry.'

'Not your fault. I still think Eliza's trying to collect herself another billionaire.'

'Yeah. I'm not sure she'll have much like with Milo. He's the most cynical person I've ever met.'

'He seems nice.'

'He can be nice and cynical at the same time. I mean, look at me.'

'I am.' She raised an eyebrow that was somehow both sardonic and appreciative. 'May I suggest a moratorium on the subject of anyone who isn't us?'

'A fine plan, madam. I have an agenda item we might add instead.'

'Oh, really?'

He grinned, all stress fading away. 'Yes. It involves working through more of our Spotify playlist.'

'I accept the amendment.'

'Excellent.'

*


	36. Sanditon 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the super comments so far - I really appreciate it! It's been a very busy week so very little writing has happened.
> 
> However, I had the second half of this waiting for a while and all I had to do was type it up. Depending on how tomorrow goes, I might not have to wait too long to update again, but as always, I can promise nowt.

Friday was a whirl of museums, shops and various modes of London-specific transport. Social class meant that neither Gigi nor Bella had ever been on a London bus before: by judicious use of youthful excitement and steely determination, they secured the most excellent seat on a double-decker - front seat on the top deck, as everyone knows - as they made their way from Kensington's museums to Selfridges, where they proved their class by purchasing bags of stuff without even having to think about it.

Charlotte was a patient chaperone, faintly baffled though she was by the ways of the very rich. Bella bought a drone from the electronics department that cost more than Charlotte's monthly pre-tax salary, because "it looks fun!"

On Friday afternoon, Bella's lawyer dad met them at Victoria; from there, they returned south with their swag. Charlotte returned to Bedford Place where Sidney was holed up in the library, scowling at the computer screen.

She leaned against the doorframe. 'Sup?'

'Did they get away from Victoria OK?' he asked, not looking up from the screen.

'Yep. Bella's dad is exactly the kind of sharkish legal dude-type with a too-deep tan, as you described.'

'Told you he was-' Sidney glanced up and in so doing, froze. Charlotte was indeed leaning against the library door. She had, however, changed from her outdoor clothes into a minuscule bikini she hardly dared believe she'd ever even buy, let alone wear. 'I've died and gone to heaven?'

'Not yet.' She smiled brightly. 'But if you don't leave that computer in the next five minutes and join me downstairs, I might kill you.'

'I don't think any jury would convict.' He hit COMMAND+SAVE and moved to stand. 'Hang on a sec.'

'Parker, do you know how cold I am right now?'

'I can see.' He stood, a little awkwardly. 'Come on, then. No, after you.'

'It's fine-' she said as he paused to let her out of the room first.

'Nah, I like the view.'

'Are you objectifying me, Parker?'

'Appreciating, I assure you. You're fucking gorgeous, you know.'

She dearly wanted to object to this particular classification. Still, his hand slid down her bare back to pull her close, and she quite forgot to say anything.

*

On Sunday, the reality of returning to Sanditon began to bite. Charlotte tried so hard to _not _care that she grew irritated with everything.

'Oh, fuck off then, then!' she snapped as the Sky box paused and refused to continue downloading an episode of _Brooklyn 99 _that she'd seen several times before. She'd already spent almost ten minutes idly and ineffectually skimming through the contents of Sky's entire offering to find something to watch.

Sidney, sat in the armchair with his legs stretched out and feet on the coffee table, looked up from the book he'd started to read. 'Sup, Heywood?'

'Nothing.'

'Yeah, right.'

'It's Sunday.'

'For much of the day, I'd risk guessing.'

'Sod off.'

'Hey, don't bite my head off.'

'I don't want to go to work. I don't want to get back on the train. I don't want-' Charlotte sighed. 'I don't want to go home. Except, of course, I do.'

'If it's any consolation, I do know how you feel.'

'I know.' She sighed again. 'It'll be even worse one the weather turns crap. And it gets dark. I just- I'm sorry.'

Sidney put his book down and reached out to wrap a hand around her besocked foot. 'I know.'

'Why doesn't teleportation exist yet?'

'Dunno. But Aston Martins do. Shall I drive you home in a bit? That way... we don't have to say bye just yet.'

'You'd drive all the way to Sanditon and back? For me?'

He shrugged. 'It's not that far. And it's not like I don't know the way.'

'You're sure?'

'Course. We can leave after lunch if you like.'

'Or we could eat on the way at that cafe you talked about.'

'You have a deal.'

*

The Gray House Cafe was an odd little place on the London-Sanditon road: an old watermill, long-derelict until a beardy hipster with a loan from his wealthy parents turned it into a charming little place fit for the 'gram.

Sidney and Charlotte both got the All-Day Brunch: avocado toast using artisanal sourdough bread, heritage tomatoes and fresh herbs. Along with tea almost as flouncy as that found at the Hall, it was enough to restore Charlotte's mood.

They did not linger - the day was already starting to wear on and get annoying close to becoming Monday - and upon their return to the car, Elaine Paige was on Radio 2 with the sound of musical theatre.

'No,' Sidney said, blunt and intractable. 'I draw the line at Lloyd-Webber.'

'Spotify then, milord?'

'Yeah.' He always kept his phone below the console and, as he was already driving, Charlotte unlocked it with the pin and started up Spotify.

As she was in control, the first song that blared from the speakers was "Don't Cry For Me Argentina".

'Very fucking funny.' He scowled. 'Don't wreck my carefully tuned algorithms with that rubbish.'

'Jokes and lols, that's all.' She tapped again. 'How's this?'

"The Magnificent Seven" was one of the undeniable bangers from The Clash's uneven triple album _Sandinista! _

'You know, that's Norman Watt-Roy on bass,' Sidney said. 'A legend.'

'Dork.'

'True. Just don't tell anyone, eh?'

Charlotte smiled and turned to watch High Weald pass by outside the windows. 'I really do need to go back home - Willingden, I mean - soon.'

'Been a while?'

'Not since Easter.'

'OK. You er... want me to take you?'

'I can get myself to- oh. _Oh_. You mean... well, that's up to you, of course. If... if you want?'

'I would like to meet your family.' Sidney's vowels were clipped, his consonants a little sharp as he tried to sound unaffectedly casual, which made her smile. 'If you want me to.'

'If you want to.'

'There you go, then.'

'OK.'

'OK. Cool. Cool.'

"The Magnificent Seven" was five and a half minutes long and when it was finished, the next song on the playlist Charlotte had found was "Mondo Bongo".

'Skip, please,' Sidney said quickly.'

'Why, it's-'

'Skip it, or I crash the car.'

'Why?'

He bit his lip as he took a corner. 'Because I very closely associate it with distracting memories, and I really need as much blood in my brain as possible.'

Charlotte laughed. 'Fair enough.'

She grabbed the phone again - the next song was "Billericay Dickie" by Ian Dury and the Blockheads.

'Ah,' Sidney smiled. 'Norman Watt-Roy again.'

'Dork,' she repeated, flicking through the playlist to find out what else they had to look forward to - and curate anything that might be distracting. 

Charlotte was, therefore, looking at the screen of Sidney's iPhone 11 Pro when a new WhatsApp message notification slid into view.

She might have paid it absolutely no attention - it was not her phone after all - except the contact's label was curiously brief: simply, **E**.

The message preview itself was also curious: _Hello darling. _

More confused than anything, Charlotte tapped the notification before she even thought about what she was doing.

Sidney was oblivious to her sudden distress as WhatsApp opened and a whole raft of messages - a conversation! - stretched back and back for days.

_ Days_.

She dropped the phone back to the console like it was on fire and tried to breathe herself into calm. What the actual _fuck_.

Charlotte was not sure of anything. Except: Eliza Campion had been messaging Sidney and he had accepted it. Also: he had not told _her_.

She wanted to scream... but also didn't want him to crash the car. The Aston didn't deserve it.

They passed a road sign bearing the information "SANDITON 2". 

'I need you to stop the car,' she said, amazed how _normal _she sounded as her life collapsed around her.

'You OK?'

'Please, stop the car.'

Frowning and confused, Sidney pulled into a little picnic area and stopped the car. 

'What's the matter? Carsick?'

'No.'

'Then?'

Charlotte undid her seatbelt with trembling fingers that then struggled to pick up the phone.

'Who is E?' she asked. She knew with almost complete certainty that it was Eliza, but she needed him to say it.

The way in which guilt, shame and _oh fuck _settled onto him like a second, all-too-familiar skin, was proof enough. But...

'Charlotte-'

'Who is E?'

'I think you know.'

'Why- I don't understand why you're chatting with someone you profess to loathe.'

'I'm not! She-'

'Messages are going all the way back to her reappearance, seems to me. So, you've been chatting with Eliza fucking Campion all this time. All while we've-'

'Charlotte, really, it isn't-'

'It isn't _like that_? I don't suppose it ever is! And yet, here we are!'

'I'm not _chatting _with her!'

'The block button exists and yet! And look... here's a bit of chat about me!'

'No!'

'"Very competent"! And thus, I am damned with faint praise!' Charlotte pushed the car door opened and scrambled out as carefully as her jellied legs allowed.

Sidney followed, of course. 'Do I have to tell you about everyone who sends me messages?'

'EVERYONE? Who said a fucking thing about everyone? Eliza isn't everyone or anyone, and you know it. She is the _ only _ person you've ever loved!'

'No, she isn't-'

'You've said so-'

'She isn't the only one ever. I love _you-' _

Charlotte's temper ramped up a notch or six. 'Now is a very poor time for that sudden declaration, Parker!'

'It isn't sudden!'

'News to me!'

'I see how it...' Sidney ran a hand through his hair and paced a moment, shoes digging into the gravel. 'I see how this looks bad, but... I _adore _you. I want-'

'You want to _what_, Sidney? Hang out with me and then... whatever, with Eliza?'

'Nothing! there's nothing there!'

'Sidney, really. You really want me to believe that after the merest _sight _of her sent you crawling into a bottle? or that you kept up this trail of... _correspondence _with her-'

She was dimly aware that correspondence was quite a word to fling around when she was so angry, and it almost made her laugh.

'I tried _so fucking hard _to be cool and understanding. I _was _understanding. Even when you were a twat to _me _about it-'

'Charlotte, I-'

'I'm not finished! You were horrible to me on a day when my world was tilted on its axis, and I still empathised. I didn't throw my toys out of the pram or point out that you were a dick. I understood, even as it made my blood run _cold_. But... this? Jesus, Parker. What is wrong with you?'

'I didn't- I mean... I thought it was better to see what she was up to than not.'

'That's a piss-poor excuse, and you know it. Because if that was true, you'd have said to me-'

'Charlotte-'

'Yeah, you'd have said "Charlotte, Eliza's sending me messages. Isn't that weird and toxic? We'd better keep an eye on her because I don't trust her." That makes some weird sense, I suppose. That's a timeline I could've maybe understood. Especially when she showed up on the project. I assume you knew about that-'

'No, but after she showed up at the office-'

And the temper rose. 'WHAT?'

She almost couldn't bear the guilty expression that sank his face. 'I meant to say, but-'

'So.' Charlotte took a breath. 'Let me see if I've got this right. You've been messaging with your ex-fiancé-'

'She's been messaging _me_.'

'Don't fucking semantics your way out of this, arsehole. _Messages have been exchanged _between you and the only person you've had a remotely functional relationship with-'

'Only_ other _-'

'Parker, are you kidding? We don't... we don't have a functional relationship! We have a handful of weeks during which you have _lied _to me the entire time. Are you out of your mind? How can you- Seriously?' Tears were now streaming down her face - it was all she could do to not let her mind white-out completely. 

He reached for her; she dodged.

'Open the boot, Sidney.'

'What do you-'

'OPEN THE FUCKING CAR!'

He obeyed; she pulled her bag out.

She wiped her stinging tears away with the back of her hand. 'Goodbye, Sidney.'

'Charlotte, you can't-'

'I can; I will; I am. Go back to fucking London and go back to Eliza. Or don't. Get a therapist. God knows you need one.'

She dared look up at him - he was trying not to cry himself and was rapidly losing the fight.

'I love you,' he said, quietly and with the air of the already-defeated.

For the first time in her life, Charlotte understood what it meant for that phrase to be _not enough_. Her heart shattered, under the tumult and overwhelm of the last few weeks, and shock at what had just happened.

They had been happy _ten minutes ago_. Except, Charlotte had not been living with all the facts and couldn't trust what she'd thought ten minutes ago. If it had been anyone but Eliza... Eliza had haunted Sidney for a decade, after all. 

She went to hand him his phone back: the damned thing buzzed again. She glanced down at it. 'Eliza wants you. You should probably reply.'

Charlotte hefted her back over her shoulder and started to walk towards Sanditon. This was not a feeling she'd ever wanted. It was... crushingly sad, and yet she'd had worse, hadn't she? Nobody was dead, so it couldn't be all that bad, could it?

And anyway, it had all felt too good to be true, hadn't it? She'd been right: it _had_ been too good to be true. Even if not today, even if not Eliza, Sidney Parker would meet someone richer and more beautiful and more _pleasing_. At least this foe was the one that got away and not just some random woman passing through.

"Charlotte, please-'

Charlotte kept walking. It was only about two miles back to Sanditon, after all.


	37. Fall Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a little while, eh? Sorry about that. To call this week 'low-key absolute crap' is to... be quite accurate, actually. 
> 
> Would you believe I had the day off from Day Job 1 but the hoped-for 'five hours of writing' turned into 'about an hour sat soaking wet from the rain at the table next to the Starbucks toilet' which is not conducive to anything other than feeling vomitous?
> 
> And that's just for starters. Hopefully, your weeks have been better - and I totally acknowledge that compared to (checks notes) a lot of what's happening in the world right now, I'm really awfully lucky.
> 
> This isn't very long but the good news is that I do have the next bit almost ready to go... I hope you enjoy and thanks so much for the lovely feedback on the last chapter - I'm so glad it worked for you good people!

It was fortunate, in one respect, that it was a long summer day and that they had left London relatively early. The sun was still high and bright in the sky as Charlotte left the picnic area for the path to town.

It was a popular route for walkers coming to the coast from inland, so it was well-worn and comfortable to traverse- even with her eyesight hampered first by tears and then by red, swollen, stinging eyes.

2 miles was no real distance for her, and it was barely more than thirty-five minutes when she reached Waterloo Terrace. Mary was waiting and without a word, folded her into a warm hug that started her tears again.

'Let's go inside, sweetheart,' she said. 'I'll make us some tea.'

Charlotte hadn't the energy to object, although she didn't really want to see anyone, let alone Sidney fucking Parker's sister. Except Mary seemed to be there in her capacity as Charlotte's friend.

'Sidney arrived at the house a while ago. He told me what happened - he wanted to make sure you were all right walking back. You didn't answer your phone...'

'I.. didn't even think about it.' Charlotte absently reached for the phone resting in the side pocket of her rucksack: a list of messages from Mary, Arthur, Gigi and Sidney himself. The latter simply said:

** The Best Parker:  ** I'm sorry.

She tossed the phone onto the kitchen table and let it clatter to a stop there. Then, she kicked off her shoes and stumbled over to the sofa to curl up under a blanket her mother had crocheted decades before.

'You don't have to say anything,' Mary said once tea was made. 'But I'm worried. Everything seemed to be great.'

'Seemed is a word working overtime,' Charlotte replied. She sipped her tea, the heat of the mug scalding her hands in a way she didn't care about. Then, she related the story as she understood it.

Mary looked down into her now-empty cup. 'Ah.'

'Sidney told you a very different story, I suppose.'

'No. Very much the same, but with more self-loathing.' Mary reached out and squeezed Charlotte's shoulder. 'I'm not going to take sides, and I'll say to you what I said to him: If you need me, I'm here for you.'

'I'll be all right.' This, Charlotte did not altogether believe. 'I've had worse.'

'I'm sorry, Charlotte. Truly, I am.'

For a moment, Charlotte feared Mary was going to follow up with excuses about Sidney not meaning it, or exhortations to forgive him. She did neither.

'Do you want me to stay with you for a while? I don't mind.'

'No, it's all right. You've got things to do-'

'Gigi's looking after the trio for a bit. If you need me-'

'I just want to... I want to sleep and just... thank you, but I'll be all right.'

Mary hesitated a moment before standing. 'We love you, Charlotte. Nothing changes that. Just in case you... were worried.'

Charlotte nodded, not trusting herself to say anything. It had been one of the fears that rose up on the walk home: would she lose the Parkers if sides were to be taken?

How had any of it come to this? She ought to have been more careful, really. Amusing bantz with an attractive boy was not reason enough to think oneself in  _ love _ .

For years, Charlotte had avoided the pitfalls she saw friends suffer; she saw relationships rise only to fall, fizzle, burn, crash, fail, decimate and otherwise send a person to the depths of despair and unwise choices like quitting one's job, cutting one's hair off or jumping into a river. The latter was presented as a charity event, but Charlotte knew better.

With Mary gone home, Charlotte was alone at home for the first time in what felt like an age. It had not been, of course, but there was something entirely different to being at home alone knowing someone was about to Skype, or had just Skyped, or was at the very least more interested in your wellbeing than the average man on the Clapham Omnibus.

Charlotte wanted a hot bath but was obliged to wait for the water to heat up. In that time, she retrieved her phone and sent brief messages to Gigi and Arthur to let them know she was alive and would survive.

Then, she changed the name of Sidney's contact to simply read  _ Sidney Parker _ . Her finger hovered over the delete button, then over the block button. 

She did not tap and laughed out loud at what was probably not precisely irony. It wasn't that she didn't  _ want _ to block Sidney, but that it somehow felt  _ dangerous _ not to: what if there was a problem with the children or Mary or Tom or Gigi or Arthur or  _ something _ ? And of course, they were both still associated with the cinema project. It would be  _ unprofessional  _ to go all-out and block him.

Maybe he'd quit the project. He had plenty of other things going on, after all. She could hope.

She deleted him from Facebook - which he never used - and from Instagram - which he never used. She deleted their WhatsApp thread and would've ditched the entire app if not for wanting to speak to Gigi on the only platform that wasn't TikTok that she'd be seen on.

Then, at last, her bath was ready. Idly, as the water ran steaming into the tub, she thought she might sob once submerged, where she might feel safe and cocooned to let her feelings go. But instead, she lay there under jasmine bubbles and let the water soothe her muscles, and let her breath even out and calm down. She did not cry, although she thought she might cry again another time.

For now, she was content to exist as nothing more than cells and energy.

Sometimes, the passage of time was all that anyone needed.

*

Sidney, having stopped at Trafalgar House and poured everything out to Mary in a haze of self-hatred, did not get home until late in the evening. He parked the Aston in the garage and went directly up to the library.

He found  _ Frank Sinatra Sings for Only The Lonely _ wedged between the LP edition of the Jean-Michel Jarre  _ Lawrence of Arabia _ soundtrack and a 45 of  _ Rappers Delight _ by the Sugarhill Gang. Soon, the turntable was spinning at 33 1/3rpm, and he set the stylus with extraordinary delicacy onto the record.

His next instinct was to reach for the whiskey in the drawer, but he hadn't replaced the bottle he'd drained after the Eliza Incident. He could go downstairs and get more, but something stayed his hand.

Was it simple depression, preventing anything but the most necessary of movement? Or was it a strange new determination not to prove himself the worst of Charlotte's fears?

He had wrecked things with her, but for the first time in his entire life, he wanted to do better to prove himself worthy of the affection she had once held him in.

After all, Charlotte had given him far more than he had given her - he ought to respect that. So, he passed the night in emotional agony, completely sober.

It was fucking hell on earth. He followed Sinatra with Julie London, with Nina Simone, with Billie Holiday, with Judy Garland, Nick Drake and the Doors.

Sidney never drank to have fun; he never drank to gain confidence; he always drank to find cold, dark oblivion - somewhere the pain couldn't get to him. Without that recourse now, he had to face the pain Sidney regretted every moment of it even as something in his mind kept him where he was.

At half-past three in the morning, he started to compile a playlist on Spotify that he titled  _ What To Listen To When Your Heartbreak Is Your Own Fucking Fault _ \- he found that focusing on it let his pain ebb just a little. Just a little, just for now.

With the chiming of eight o'clock in the morning, he sent an email to his secretary that he had a cold and would work from home to save spreading it through the office air-conditioning.

At 08:14, the front door swung open and Arthur's voice - full of concern and care - reverberated through the house. He was up the stairs in a moment or two, trying to catch his breath.

'Sidney, are you all right?'

'No. Go away.'

'Well, I can't go away if you're not all right, can I? Are you sober?'

'Yes.'

'Really?'

'Yes!'

'Good, that's good. That's a start. You look like shit. I'll make some breakfast.'

'You probably have to go get more eggs. Charlotte-' God, he loathed how his voice caught. 'Need more eggs.'

'I'll get more eggs. Unless you want to go to Annunziata's-'

'Let Zun see me like this? I'd rather kill myself.'

'I'll go... get some eggs then.'

Arthur did just that and was back so quickly Sidney was sure he must've actually run. He himself was still sitting at his desk, staring at his work Outlook account without seeing anything there, when a plate of steaming scrambled eggs and toast was slid across to him.

Arthur sat himself down in one of the library armchairs. 'You eat; I'll wait.'

'Wait for what?'

'For you to tell me what happened.'

'Didn't Mary tell you?'

'Enough to put me on the first train up this morning. Still, I did want to be up here more. Interviews and-'

'Artie, leave me alone-'

'Nope. I'll leave you  _ be _ for a bit if you really want, but I'm not leaving you alone.'

'God, you're worse than Mam-' he stopped himself, not willing to pull at that emotional plaster either. 'Just... I'll be all right.'

'Then it won't matter if I'm here anyway, will it?'

He had no energy to argue with Arthur, especially if Parker Minor was in this sort of bullish mood. 'Whatever.'

Work, at least, was comfortable and gave him something to think about that wasn't Charlotte or the absolute clusterfuck he'd made of his life.

** Babs:  ** Caught a cold or is Charlotte still there, you old dog?

Oh, shit. He'd have to tell Babington what happened. And Crowe. Even Crowe, hidden away in a lab somewhere under a mountain, would have something to say.

** Me: ** It's over. 

** Babs: ** What? I'm coming over. 

** Me:  ** You don't have to do that. I'll be all right.

** Babs: ** I'll come over just the same. I'll bring you the Mac papers you need to sign.

** Me:  ** courier them.

** Babs:  ** Fuck couriers. I'll be half an hour, probably.

Actually, Babington took nearly two hours and looked hellishly peeved about it when Arthur led him into the library.

'Someone jumped in front of a train at Liverpool Street,' he explained, seething on the one hand and empathetic on the other.

'I know how they feel,' Sidney mumbled before he could stop himself.

Babington slapped a folder of paperwork down onto the desk and then totally ignored it. 'So, what happened, Sidney?'

'I don't want to-'

The artist formerly known as Gideon settled into the chair in front of the desk and stretched out his legs. 'You tell me, or I ask Charlotte.'

He took a breath and did as Babington asked if only to prevent an awkward conversation for Charlotte. It was literally the least he could do, after all.

'Well,' said Babington, running a hand through his hair. 'Fuck.'

'Yeah.'

'You're an idiot.'

'I know.'

'You're really an idiot.'

'Yes, I know!'

'Do you?'

'Yes.'

'So, what are you going to do about it?'

'Do? There's nothing to be done.'

'Course there is. I mean, you're not shitfaced - that's progress.'

'Have you... have you considered talking to someone?'

'Oh come on, that's- Babs, what is  _ that _ ?' Sidney pointed to his dearest friend's hand, upon which a gold signet ring now rested where it had not before.'

'Ah.' Babington reddened and shifted in his seat. 'Well...'

'Are you  _ married _ , Babs?'

'A little bit.'

'No, you're either married, or you're not. What the hell?'

'Esther and I went to Las Vegas for the weekend and... it seemed like a good idea at the time.'

Sidney sat up, trying to take in every single microexpression upon Babington's person. 'No, there's more to it than that.'

'Not really. I asked, and she said yes.'

'Is she coming to London?'

'Not just yet.'

'What aren't you telling me?'

'Nothing, but I'm gratified to know you think nobody would marry just because they want to.'

'That's not what I said. Esther Denham is cold, and she'd already blown you off-'

'One day I'll tell you everything, but for now, all you need to know is that I love her dearly and I intend to spend the rest of my life making her happy.' Babington twisted the ring. 'And you're very welcome to congratulate me at any time you like.'

'Oh, yes!" Sidney bounded out of his chair and around the desk to give him a hug. It was a manly sort of hug with a proper backslap, yet they held on just a little longer than they might ordinarily. 'I am very, very happy for you. I wish you nothing but the very best joy and happiness for all time.'

'Thank you. I'm sorry to... I mean, I was going to tell you today anyway but when you said- I mean, I didn't want to rub it in.'

'Don't be daft, Gid. I'm so pleased for you. And I take it you've enraged the beast?'

Babington grinned mischievously, a little darkly: 'Mater is absolutely spitting feathers. She sees the Denhams as very much new money.'

'Everyone's a winner.'

'Yes, but...' Gideon took a long deep breath and let it go slowly. 'Most of all, I really do love Esther. More than I ever thought I could love anyone. I know she's spiky and a bit cold to the rest of the world, but I  _ know _ her.'

Sidney shook his hand. 'I am truly pleased, Gid.'

'Thank you, Sid. And... we'll get you sorted out too.'

Sidney shrugged, trying and failing to appear unconcerned. 'I've had worse and survived.'

He prayed to whatever vague possible deities that might exist and be listening that Babington did not press further.

Whether the possible listening deity granted his prayer or his best friend knew when to leave it alone, Babington did  _ not _ press further. 

'Do you want to stay and work here for the rest of the day? Arthur's here and keeping me fed and watered.'

Babington shook his head with some reluctance - the Parker library was a much cosier and pleasanter place to work than their glass box office. 'Sadly, I'm back in the office for job interviews this afternoon.'

'OK.'

'You'll be all right?'

'In due course.'

'Let's go to the club tomorrow, eh? Bit of fencing, a bit of boxing?'

'Sounds good.'

Babington tossed a jaunty salute and departed, leaving Sidney to his forecast models, projections and contract wording once again.

And so, Sidney Parker's time passed.


	38. September

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got a bit more typing up of scribbles done so here's some more - a bit short maybe, but ho-hum.
> 
> Thanks for all your comments on the last chapter - I really appreciate them all. 
> 
> And we're about to get another POV for the first time :)

Sidney made it into the office the next day, even if he felt like the world was crushing him from all angles. The journey to the office had been vexing, and he barely managed to acknowledge Jed, the security guard, as he slouched into the building.

Was it, he wondered, worse than the time before? He hardly recalled much of the time immediately after Eliza's departure, so totally fucked as he'd been. That he graduated with a first was a mystery for the ages, although Crowe maintained that his copious coke intake had allowed him to party all night every night and study all day. According to his friends, Sidney went six days without any sleep at all immediately before finals. To him, it was all a blur of grief that his memory mercifully chose to forget in any detail.

Thank God Tom and Mary had yanked him away from all that before it really took hold. Bad times... he shook his head to push the memories and shame away and slouched against the lift wall as it swooshed up to his floor.

Without chemical crutches, the agony was sharper, and the whole world felt so much more intolerable. He couldn't even lose himself in women as before - the mere thought of it made his insides shrivel. Was it a betrayal of Charlotte, himself, or both? Had he finally, finally grown out of his almost-priapic Mick Jagger phase?

Nobody in the office seemed to notice anything was wrong with him, which was a blessing. The last thing he needed was pity from anyone, or for his reputation as a cold, stone-hearted arsehole to be dented.

He'd been right to keep things discreet, it seemed. This was the opposite of Babington who was, at that very moment, allowing some of their colleagues to coo over the ring on his finger.

Babington's secretary Alicia waved at him. 'Sidney, did you hear about Lord B's news?'

'I did indeed. Congrats, Babs. Now, I really must get to work.'

Ten more days passed in this fashion. He woke each morning, sober and alone. He went to work, where he was the most productive, focused and hardnosed as he'd ever been. He returned home, ate dinner with Arthur, played video games for a while then went to bed early to combat the bone-deep weariness that settled upon him and would not leave.

He felt nothing, except when he listened to his_ you fucked up _playlist, letting the torch songs and heartbreak wash over the whole room, bouncing off the shelves and walls.

Mary sent him "how are you?" messages every day and called several times to hear "yeah, all right" for herself. She knew he wasn't all right, he knew he wasn't all right, but the fiction allowed him to keep going. He let her chat about the little Parkers, who never failed to raise a smile.

'And of course,' Mary said during one such conversation. 'You'll be taking Gigi back to school-'

'Oh, god.'

Gigi had sent him several messages that left him in no doubt as to her position as captain of Team Charlotte and her anger at him personally. She had then sent one "look after yourself, dick" and then kept radio silence. The idea of spending several hours in a car with her did not appeal.

'Mary, could-'

'Nope! It's the same day as Jenny and Alicia go back to school and Henry's starting in Reception. And even if that wasn't true, I have a business to run.'

'Yeah, of course. Sorry. Maybe Tom or Arthur-'

'Tom is no use to anyone as long as that bloody pavilion is even _ potentially _ happening. And you cannot ask Arthur to give up a day of his life because you're a coward.'

'I didn't mean-'

'I know. But Tom's still killing himself trying to make a British seaside resort work in the 21st century.'

Sidney sighed. 'I hoped the cinema would help.'

'It will. Eventually. But between James, Charlotte, you and the money from your friend, there's nothing for him to do.'

'Yeah. Sorry.'

'Don't be _sorry_, Sidney. Do something.'

'What?'

There was a pause while Mary chastised Henry for something at the other end of the line. 'Start by driving Gigi back to school like you're meant to. And talk to her.'

'OK.'

'How is Arthur doing up there?'

'Two interviews tomorrow; assistant manager of a coffee shop and bartender. Also for a temp agency later in the week. I don't see much of him, to be honest.'

'Fingers crossed for him. He deserves something good.'

Sidney let her chit-chat a little longer before ending the call. Time passed again, slow, steady and unhappily.

*

The UK summer is a mercurial creature at the best of times, prone to sudden departures, unexpected returns and baffling changes in direction. The final bank holiday weekend saw temperatures smash records. Gigi Lambe persuaded her presently-glum friend Charlotte to get on a bike - they spent Bank Holiday Monday cycling down the coast beyond Eastbourne all the way to Birling Gap.

Gigi waited for Charlotte to mention Sidney even once, but she did not. It was not _fair _ . Charlotte was the _best, _and Sidney was... OK. They really ought to be OK, and they weren't. It wasn't _fair. _

And then, it was time to go back to school. Her books and trunk went ahead by courier, leaving Sidney to drive her up. It was the first meaningful time she'd spend with her guardian since the good ship Sidlotte foundered and sank, leaving no survivors. She was not looking forward to it.

She half-expected Sidney to weasel out of taking her to school. Yet, five minutes before his intended arrival, the Aston purred up five minutes before the promised time. She had waited outside as if she could goad him into cancelling on her, but there he was, as planned. The utter bastard.

He climbed out of the car and took her rucksack and vanity case to put in the boot. 'Gigi.'

'Mr Parker.'

'Gigi-'

'I have to be polite; I don't have to be friendly.' She had rehearsed this line and was pleased with her performance thereof.

Sidney sighed and gave up, which was just as well. 'As you wish. I'm ready when you're ready.'

Gigi watched him try_ not_ to look back towards Waterloo Terrace. 'She's not here.'

Sidney's shoulders tensed, then relaxed. 'Right.'

The door opened - Mary had seen him arrive. 'Sidney! Stop in for a cup of tea?'

'No, it's fine. Better get going-'

'Nonsense. Take a moment, drink some tea. Use the toilet, whatever.' She shooed him through the house to the kitchen without allowing for disagreement. Gigi followed for lack of other things to do. 'Gigi, have you checked your room one last time?'

'Yep.'

'Check again, there's a dear.' Mary prepared a pot of tea for them. 'Sidney dear, you look ever so tired. And... have you been eating properly?'

Gigi knew a dismissal when she heard one, and she tramped up the stairs to dutifully, boringly check her room. Ah! Her phone charger was still plugged in. She grabbed it and bounded down the stairs again.

She was about to bound into the kitchen when something stopped her - Sidney sounded rather wretched as he talked to Mary: 'I haven't been _ avoiding _ you all. I thought you'd prefer-'

Gigi edged towards the door unseen and saw Mary slam his mug down - mercifully before the application of hot tea to said vessel. 'We _prefer_ to have Uncle Sidney to play with instead of him disappearing - again! We _prefer_ you to be here so we can make sure you're all right!'

'And what about everyone else? I know how it works. Nobody wants me here-' 

'Climb off your martyrdom, Sidney! We could have - and we will - make it work! You may be a dick, but you're _ours_, and it's really-' Mary allowed two tears to drop before pulling herself together. 'Everything was so _good_, Sidney. You were _happy_! Why did you let _that woman _ruin it all again?'

If Sidney looked stunned by Mary's outburst, Gigi was absolutely astonished. She'd never, ever seen Mary speak like that, but it was still less surprising than the tears welling up in Sidney's eyes. His posture, which had been somewhere between "big cat, threatened" and "sullen teenager, defensive", collapsed. 'I don't_ know_, Mary. I've done nothing but think about it since. Over and over and over again. But I fucked up because that is what I do.'

He slumped against the counter. Gigi wanted to make her escape - he almost certainly didn't want her to see him in a state - but her feet wouldn't obey.

Mary wrapped her arms around Sidney as though he was a little kid and not a foot taller than her. 'Shh...'

'I know I'm a bastard and a dick. It just proves it. One minute, I'm the happiest I've been since- well, ever. The next... fuck, you should've seen her face when she showed me that fucking phone.'

'You hurt her very badly.'

'I know. That's what kills the most.'

Sidney pulled away then and wiped his eyes with his hand. 'I don't know what to do.'

'Well,' Mary sighed. 'Right now, you're going to drink a cup of tea. Then, you're going to drive Gigi to school.'

'Gigi hates me,' he mumbled.

'She's very loyal to the people she loves,' Mary added, looking over Sidney's shoulder to where Gigi stood. 'And ought not to forget that you're one of her people too.'

'Yeah, yeah,' Gigi replied, coming into the room as though she'd just arrived. Yet, her fury was gone. It was hard to be that angry at someone so broken. 'Can we stop for food on the way to Cheltenham? Something greasy at a service station.'

Sidney did not argue as he detached from Mary's hug: 'Whatever you say, Gigi.'

They drank tea as if nothing was amiss, then it was time for them to go.

Gigi hugged Mary. 'I'll be back at half term, and I'm going to miss everyone! Skype on Sunday?'

'Of course, love. Enjoy your last year-'

'This is the last time I'll go back to school. That's so weird. Come on, then, Sidney.'

The journey was not half so bad as she'd feared. Sidney let her play whatever music she liked, so she inflicted BTS, Shawn Mendes and Camila Cabello on him for most of the way. Then, she took pity and switched to the Beatles.

'Thank god,' he muttered.

'You're such an old man.'

'I certainly feel that way.'

'I had a brilliant summer,' she said. 'You know, I mean some parts really _ fucking _ sucked, but mostly it was one of the best since... well, since mummy and daddy.' Gigi bit her lip, drawing just enough pain to distract her from crying. She didn't want to cry in front of Sidney any more than he wanted to cry in front of _her_.

'Yeah.'

'You know... you're an excellent big brother when you chill the fuck out.'

'Language!' There was no bite to his castigation. 'You're a great little sister when you're not a pain in my arse.'

'Oh, I'm always awesome then!'

'Haha.'

At CLC, Arabella and Jemima were already arrived, along with many of their school chums. Sidney did not get as much attention as he had in the year of the gym kit, but a few mothers still craned their necks to see him as he retrieved Gigi's things from the car for her.

With joy bubbling in her heart, Gigi flung herself at Bella, feeling the time since their last hangout fade to nothing.

'Wow,' Bella whispered in her ear. 'Sid looks like total shit. You were right.'

'I'm actually _worried, _not even gonna lie.'

'I thought we hate him now.'

'We're Team Charlotte forever but... he's more of an idiot than actively a bastard. I do feel sorry for him. Ugh.'

Bella sighed. 'Oh, good! I didn't want to hate him... He's nice, really.'

'Eh, he's OK. You both look really tanned. You have to tell me everything about Sardinia. I can't believe I didn't get to go abroad this summer.'

'It was _amaze_!' Bella glanced over at Sidney standing by the Aston as Jemima approached. 'I might have accidentally told Jemima they broke up. Although, she seemed to already know, so...'

They watched, pretending that they were not listening.

'Sidney darling!' Jemima cooed. 'You look well.'

'Hello.' He stood, awkwardly holding Gigi's rucksack and her sparkly gold vanity case.

'I was so sorry to hear about you and Charlie. Still, it seemed pretty obvious she wasn't the right sort-'

'Right sort?' he almost _snarled_.

'Not like us, that's all. She was perfectly nice-'

'What do you know about_ Charlotte_? You've barely even acknowledged her whenever you've met. Unless you've been discussing her in more detail with your _roommate, _and even then, I fail to see how you can assemble an accurate picture of her character.'

Gigi wanted to laugh out loud; Bella elbowed her hard to stop it happening.

Jemima went a little red and lost some of her expensively-educated poise. 'Well, she-'

'What do you _want_, Jemima? Is it for you or your _friend?' _

'_We're_ friends-'

'No, you and I are not friends. What do you want?'

'Well-'

'Are you perhaps looking to fuck infamous Sidney Parker yourself, is that it? Regardless of whether you're besties with_ Eliza_ or not?'

'Now, you don't-'

'There's a queue, you know. Take a ticket - I'll get to you eventually.'

'Sidney-'

He sighed and slumped against the Aston a moment. 'That was rude. I apologise. Good day.'

Gigi hardly had time to pretend she wasn't watching before he reached her. 

'Anyone gives you any trouble,' he told her, handing her things over, 'you tell me. Work hard, have fun... I'll come up in a couple of weekends. I mean- if you like.'

'Sounds cool.' She hugged him, just briefly, lest he think she really liked him. 'Look after yourself, will you? You really do look like shit.'

'Thanks.' He smiled, just a little.

'Hey, go to the Hall! Lady Annabel would love to see you.'

'God, you really _do_ hate me.'

'Ugh, I don't hate you.' Gigi could've sworn he seemed to stand a little taller at that. 'Go away, loser.'

She waved him away then, watching the other girls and women stare. Was he really_ that_ infamous? Or just darkly pseudo-Byronic?

Bella was at her side after a moment as the Aston growled away. 'He seems really sad.'

'He is. I can't believe I feel sorry for him!'

Bella looped her arm in Gigi's. 'I hope they find a way to sort it out.'

Gigi wasn't sure this was possible but found herself replying "_ me too" _ just the same.

'Girls!' A teacher called out across the way in that perfect upper-class teacher way that was somewhere between strident and shrill. 'Don't clutter the car park, please!'

Ugh, _school_.

*


	39. A Knock to the Head

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello... I hadn't intended on updating so soon, but this really felt like it belonged with the last chapter, but I wasn't in a position to finish it yesterday and I ended up having to miss workout stuff because I've mangled my shoulder somehow. This week really was determined to go out on a real high. Or is it a low?
> 
> So... this is the last of the scribbles from notebooks and I don't know when I'll next have real time to get stuck in with writing so don't let three posts in three days fool you into thinking I can be regular with this. But I'll do my best to update relatively soon.
> 
> Thanks for all the super comments on the last couple of chapters - I've really appreciated it and although they haven't magically made my week better, they've made me smile and that's all I can really hope for, it seems.

Sidney drove the long way home, spurning motorways for curving, twisting, rising-falling B-roads and country lanes with their National Speed Limit. It was thrilling and satisfying to take an unknown hairpin bend at speed - only his consideration for possible other cars kept him from going full pelt.

That kind of driving required absolute focus, and he could not think about Charlotte or Gigi, or Eliza and Jemima, or Babington and his sudden marriage, or Sanditon, or Tom, or any of the million things crowding his brain.

Anything that helped him end a day alive was a success, of sorts.

What a pathetic wankstain he'd become. 

At this, his self-pity curdled to bitterer feelings, and by the time he slid the Aston into its parking space, he was raging and ready to break stuff. He shot off a message to Babington, suggesting a trip to the club.

** Me: **Boxing later?

Several minutes passed.

** Babs: **Just a quick visit. E is coming up on the later train. 

Blades was one of London's oldest, snootiest clubs and therefore permitted absolutely no woman to cross the threshold under any circumstances. 

(There was one exception: when Sir Hugo Drax had a heart attack and one of the attending paramedics was female. Everyone agreed that it would've been poor form to deny access in this instance and that pretending it hadn't happened was the best course of action.)

For generations, Blades focused on gaming and dining, but in recent years had added some excellent sporting facilities, including a fencing hall, boxing ring and state of the art gym, which appealed very much to the younger members they were eager to keep. 

Sidney Parker, whose male forebears had been members of the club since at least 1842, arrived at six o'clock and being casually dressed, took the back door straight down to the gym.

He expended some of his furious energy on the heavy bag, punching until his knuckles ached. Babington would be along soon - Parker hoped he would learn more about the sudden Denham marriage over dinner.

Left jab, right cross, left hook, right hook, left hook, right hook, left jab, right cross... as with his driving, Sidney focused only on the specific, small task at hand and left the rest of the universe to wait.

The universe, as is so often the case, had other ideas. From somewhere behind him, a voice interrupted his routine:

'Challenge you, Parker?'

Sidney stopped punching and looked around to find another club member leaning against the smith machine. Just his _fucking luck_.

Sidney couldn't think why he was being challenged, but Sir Rupert Vanderleyden, 9th Baronet (of Dunstable for anyone who cared, which few did) was of a similar age, build and fitness level. It would not be an unequal match, and as Sidney detested Vanderleyden _and _was spoiling for a fight, he nodded his acceptance. 

Sir Rupert was a tall blond fellow with more than a touch of the consciously-Aryan about him, Sidney thought. He was more "expensively groomed" than actually handsome, but Sidney knew by reputation that Sir Rupert - who went by the excruciating nickname "VDL" in the press - was about as well-travelled amongst society women as he was.

Blades being Blades, news of the challenge swept through the building and bets had been placed before Sidney had even switched his bag gloves for a pair more suited to an actual fight. He ditched his gym shirt - the sleeves would impede his movement - and switched from trainers to boxing shoes. No point going into it half-arsed, after all.

Mercifully perhaps, Babington arrived before the fight began and helped Sidney with his gloves. 'Are you sure, Parker? You know what VDL is like.'

'I'm sure. If it goes badly, I've always wanted to be cremated.'

'Don't be stupid, Sidney.'

'I'm joking... but he's a psychopath, so who knows?'

A goodly crowd of fellow members gathered to bet and watched - as he got into the ring, Sidney wondered why so many men weren't going home on a Monday night. He knew what _his _excuse was... 

An older chap - Bulles, Buttes? Something like that, Sidney couldn't remember exactly - took the role of referee.

The fight began reasonably enough, with conduct to satisfy the Marquess of Queensbury. Wagers were exchanged relating to the result of the match itself, and smaller details within. Sidney blocked out the noise and concentrated on the fight itself.

Then, Sir Rupert Vanderleyden, 9th Bt, elbowed Sidney's ribs to get out of a clinch.

Parker leapt away, out of reach, chest heaving to catch a breath. His opponent came for him and struck him below the belt, getting his hipbone. 'Really? That's what you want to do?'

Sir Rupert shrugged. Sidney knew he was an amoral scumbag in business - he was the very public face of a lobbying company with dictators, tobacco companies and oil barons on their client list - but dirty boxing was new.

'All right then. If you like.'

For all his fine upbringing, Sidney Parker was by nature less a gentleman boxer and more a brawler. He'd been permanently banned from the Sanditon Boys' Boxing Club for smashing an opponent's nose when he was 12. Although he was more controlled now, he really _really _wanted to smash something to smithereens.

How opportune that his opponent happened to be a cheerleader for political oppression and environmental ruin. Sir Rupert was a good fighter and although Sidney had been joking about his psychopathy... it didn't follow he was wrong. There were more deserving recipients of the Parker rage, but as he couldn't fight himself, Rupert Vanderleyden would do.

Sidney pulled back and followed through with a cross that sent VDL stumbling back. He followed with a rain of punches, slammed uppercuts and kidney-bruising hooks. He never _quite _broke the rules, but he had savagery to his style that was usually missing from proper matches.

VDL got a few hits in, most of them dirty; Sidney tasted his own blood on his lips, and his jaw would be sore in the morning. VDL was no real match for Sidney in this state and, psychopath or not, he was soon laid out on the ring floor, not quite unconscious but not far from it.

Bulles had to pull Sidney away and declare the match won - it was just as well, for he rather feared he might have killed the arsehole.

VDL's whole face was a mess; bruises were already forming on his torso... but the loss of _face _was surely the thing that stung the most after such a total pasting.

Why VDL had come for him, he didn't know or particularly care.

'Fuck you, Parker!' he spat through a broken mouth, glaring at Sidney through his left eye - the right was swollen shut.

'What did I ever do to you?' Sidney asked once Vanderleyden was on his feet, assisted by two other members.

'Milo Shaw won't even meet with me. Because of you and your fucking self-righteous _ ethical _bollocks.'

Sidney wanted very much to knee him in the groin but managed to refrain. With VDL helped into the changing rooms, Sidney remained in the ring to catch his breath and watch money changing hands.

Babington was _looking _at him. With... was that _concern_?

'What?' he asked, as Babs helped unlace his gloves.

'Have you considered a therapist, old bean?'

'What?'

'You nearly killed him, Sidney. That's not normal.'

'It's Rupert Vanderleyden! He deserves it.'

'Yeah, but you're not like, God. You don't get to pass judgement. And I don't care about him. I care that you were... unhinged.'

'I just needed a good fight. I feel better now.'

'Sidney.'

'What?'

'I love you, in a way, and I'm telling you that you need help.'

'I'll think about it.'

'You'll_ actually_ think about it?'

'No.'

'Well.'

'I'm joking! Yes, I will.'

'Good. Because there was also a moment that I thought you were giving up. Not sure what's worse.'

'I'll think about it.'

'That's all I ask. Want some help with your cuts and bruises?'

'I just need a shower. Meet you upstairs for dinner?'

'Yup.'

'Are you going to tell me about why you got married in a rush?'

'Nope.'

'Esther's pregnant?'

'Fuck off, Parker.'

Sidney grinned - felling a dragon such as Vanderleyden was a nice feeling, at least - and turned towards the showers. 'Yeah, I love you too, Babs.'

Their meal was pleasant, if short. Neither had much appetite for the conversations the other wanted to have. So, they spoke of unimportant things and work things until their Dover sole was scoffed and they had excuses to get home.

'See you tomorrow?' Babington asked.

'Yup. And... I really will think about it.'

Babington's relieved smile was enough to give Sidney pause for thought. Indeed, the idea stuck with him on his walk from Park Place to Bloomsbury, and throughout the long hot Epsom salt bath he took to stave off muscle pain. There wasn't much to be done about the bruises or his split lower lip. He'd get some odd looks at work, no doubt. 

Time passed.

*

Upon waking as one giant bruise, Sidney was tempted to work from home, reasoning that his bed was more comfortable than any chair. But, he had meetings scheduled with both of his billionaires, and there was no getting out of them.

MacDougal had become a billionaire three weeks ago after a successful stock exchange flotation, and he remained exactly as eccentric as he was a full month ago. Their meeting was jovial and mostly consisted of Sidney explaining why Mac couldn't just rebuild the entire sewage network in the Indian subcontinent on his own. It was a good _idea_, but the Indian government would have something to say.

The second meeting was with Milo, of course, and though officially about his investment portfolio as a whole, was almost certainly going to involve the cinema.

It was worse than that: Milo was grounded in Prague with plane trouble. That was fine. That Eliza Campion arrived ten minutes after the appointment time, declaring herself a stand-in, was not.

'You look grim, Sidney! Trouble in paradise?'

If he'd been in any doubt that Eliza had been sending her messages to sow discontent, her glee now was evidence in one direction.

He pointedly kept the door of his office propped open. 'Fuck off.'

'Such language, and at an investor, too!'

'What's your game?'

'Game, darling?' Eliza settled herself into the guest chair at his desk and crossed her legs in a manner he suspected he was meant to find alluring.

'What do you _ want _ from me?'

'Nothing, darling. I mean, if you don't want to be_ friends-_'

'I don't.'

'Whatever is the matter, silly boy? You seem awfully grumpy.'

'None of your business.'

'Now, Sidney, really!'

'What. Do. You. Want?'

'Nothing.'

'I don't believe you. You _always_ want something.'

'Don't take whatever's bothering you out on me. It's not that little girl, is it?'

'Charlotte.'

'Yah, her.'

'She's not a little girl.'

'Oh, I suppose not,' Eliza waved a dismissive hand. 'But it's fun making you squirm.'

'Eliza, be in no doubt that I loathe and detest you.'

'Are you still miffed about what happened-'

'You've changed the tune you're dancing to. Whatever happened to "it's not what it seemed" and "please let me explain"?'

'Oh, _Sidney_. You always take things so literally.'

'Eliza, I beg you: leave me alone. You already did your damage-' Oh _fuck_.

Eliza frowned. 'I did _what_? Whatever do you mean? Have- oh dear, are you and little Charlotte over already? What a shame. Still, I hear it's still your second-longest-'

Sidney slammed his hand against his desk, ignoring the pain that shot up his arm. 'Stop.'

'Oh dear, I hit a nerve. What happened, darling?'

'What hap- you know what happened! She found all _your_ fucking messages and got the wrong idea!'

'You are such an idiot, Sidney darling. Did you keep our conversation a secret from your little girlfriend? That's not my fault. That's all you.'

'All me? Whey did you get my number? Why did you keep sending messages even after I told you to go away? After I ignored you?'

Eliza laughed - she actually _laughed. _'Well, you didn't _always _ignore me. How was _I_ to know that your-_Charlotte _was actually important? Not one of your many, _many _other women has been!'

'Eliza.'

'You're awfully keen to blame me for all your woes but, really darling, you ought to look inwards for the real culprit.'

It stung him to his soul, but Sidney knew she was right. At least, mostly. He had walked into a trap, but she'd still been the one to set it.

'You are a selfish, self-absorbed mercenary. A manipulative, spoiled _brat_. I should've seen it years ago. I did, and yet I ignored all the signs because I foolishly thought I loved you. For _years, _I've let this get to me-'

'Also not my fault, darling.'

'CALL ME THAT ONE MORE TIME, I DARE YOU!'

'And there he is!' Eliza all but leapt from the chair. 'Beautiful, brutal Sidney Parker! How lovely to see you under all the pretence of... wokiness? Everyone thinks you're reformed, but I Know better. I know what you _want _in the darkest parts of your heart. I _ know _you, Sidney Parker. Better than anyone else. I was there when you were _formed_. Oh, darling Sidney, I _made _ you.'

His assistant Ellie came to the door, concerned at the raised voices. He waved her away. 

'You do talk a lot of shit, Eliza. Have you always been like this? You _formed_ me? What did you do except enable the worst of my impulses? _Know_ me? I don't think you ever have.'

Eliza laughed. 'I was there, darling. All your firsts are _mine_.'

The gleam of triumph in her eyes was foul. Sidney realised it was just as well that he'd smashed Rupert Vanderleyden the day before because, if he'd been able to move his shoulders, he might have done the same to Eliza.

He took a breath. 'Eliza. Mrs Campion. Be under no misapprehension. I hold you in the deepest contempt. I appreciate that you have an interest in the Sanditon cinema project. Still, I must ask that you direct all queries and questions about the project to my assistant.'

'Oh, Sidney-'

'Mrs Campion, my answer is final. You are quite right that the greater portion of the blame lies with me, for many things. I cannot fathom what you want with or from me, but understand that you will not get it. Our acquaintance is at an end.'

Her eyes narrowed then, as she realised he was absolutely sincere. 'You are a fool, Sidney. I don't want_ you_.'

To hear that phrase from Eliza, so casually thrown out, was actually a_ relief_. 

'So, what do you _want_?'

'You're a fucking idiot, Sidney.'

'I am aware.'

'You can't put two and two together? When you read in the newspaper that your former boyfriend is close with a billionaire like Milo Shaw...'

'Ah. Of course.' Despite everything, his heart sank a little. No, she had not wanted _him _after all. Then again, was it his heart or his ego that was bruised. 'Looking for husband number two?'

'God, no. Just his money.'

'He's not an idiot, you know. He won't-'

'He already _has_, Sidney. I should thank you, really. You were such a wonderful guinea pig back in the day. All that reading _ Cosmo _ and getting you to do whatever I wanted to do... it really stood me in such good stead.' Eliza stood. 'I was here to tell you that we're willing to fund the projectors your little Charlotte wanted. But you've been so horrid to me, I feel like telling Milo we should pull out-'

'Do what you like to me, Eliza. But leave them alone.'

'Where's the fun in that?'

'Eliza...'

'I'm joking, darling. But when I call on you next for a favour, know that I expect to collect.'

'Blackmail? That's new for you.'

'What a word! Not at all... just a little back-scratching.'

'OK. Take a seat.' Sidney returned to his own seat and dialled a number on the phone. He hit the speakerphone button, and after a moment, Milo Shaw greeted him.

'Milo, I'm with Eliza.'

'Oh right. Good-oh. What's up, mate?

'Eliza has just said that she'll firmly recommend you pull your finding from the cinema project unless I do her whatever favours she wants.'

Eliza's triumphant smirk froze a moment - she had not expected this turn of events. She recovered quickly - he supposed she was confident of her place within Milo's- would they be affections?

A moment's pause at the other end of the conversation. 'Ah. Right.'

'I'm afraid I can't do that. So, this puts us in a difficult position.'

'It does indeed.'

'I don't recommend that you _do _withdraw from the project,' Sidney said. 'But as I now clearly have a particular interest to declare... I can certainly take myself off the project. I'll hand over to Tom-'

'Hang on a second, Siddo.' the line crackled a moment. 'Hang on. I signed up for this on your recommendation, on the understanding that you'd be leading it with that young woman. Charlotte. Right?'

'Yes.'

'And I tend to get narked if I don't get what I want.'

'Yes.'

'So basically, Sidney, tell Eliza to get fucked.'

'We're on speakerphone,' Sidney said, biting his sore lip to stop from smiling as Eliza all but fell out of her chair. 'You can tell her yourself.'

'Good-oh. Eliza? get fucked.'

Eliza moved swiftly to damage control, practically leaping at the phone. 'Milo, I thought we had an understand-'

'You're not nearly as cunning as you think you are, love. I don't want to be crude, but there's a big difference between getting my dick wet and actually giving a fuck what you think.'

Sidney watched as Eliza went very pale. She gathered up her handbag and walked out without another word. He exhaled.

'Bloody hell, Milo.' Sidney took the phone off speaker mode.

'It was harsh,' Milo agreed and then thanked someone in the background for the drink he then slurped from. 'But sometimes you've got to be honest. And she wasn't all that...'

'I won't discuss that with you, Milo.'

'Ah, fine. Now, I presume she'll pull out, which is good because she's just getting in the way. You'll be down in Sanditon soon, I take it?'

'Not sure yet.'

'Well, tell Charlotte that I've been talking to my pal at the BFI Archive and he knows of a bloke down your way. Retired projectionist. Might be interested in doing some work with you.'

'Sounds good. I'll get on it.' He hoped he didn't sound as pathetic as he felt.

'She can have whatever she wants, Sid. Good head on those shoulders... but she's not got the experience.'

'She knows her limitations.'

'Good girl. I'll drop you the bloke's details in a sec. Just waiting for this bloody plane to- honestly, having your own plane is more trouble than it's worth.'

'I'll take your word for that.'

'Aye. I'll see thee anon.' Milo ended the call at his end.

Sidney took a long, deep breath, held it a moment and released it slowly. What the hell had just happened?

Whatever it was, he felt several weights lift from his shoulders... and then another, much greater weight settle in its place. Too much was happening and too much was out of his control, including his own feelings. It was too _much_.

'Ellie?' he called out.

Ellie was there in a moment. 'You OK, boss? That seemed... intense.'

'It was. I need you to- will you get me the numbers for some decent psychotherapists?'

Ellie's jaw dropped open a moment and then to her credit, she recovered completely. 'Yep. I know someone in a job liked yours- they really liked who they saw... I'll find out and- give me ten minutes?'

'Whatever you need. And if anyone asks about what just happened-'

'Nobody else was around. It's all OK. And if anyone does ask, I can show them the two hundred calls she's made to the office in the last month.'

'What?' He'd had no idea what Ellie had let herself in for when he gave the instruction to screen his calls.

'Yeah.'

'Bloody hell.'

'She's not polite, Sidney.' She deserved a bonus, surely.

'No, she isn't. I'm sorry. I didn't realise-'

'Will that be it do you think?'

'I hope so.'

'Want a cup of tea while I get numbers for you?'

'Yes.'

'Awesome!' Ellie beamed. 'You can make mine at the same time.'

His surprised laughter followed her out of the room and, after taking another minute to recover, Sidney Parker went and made the tea.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, so Blades is the fictional gentlemen's club from James Bond. Hugo Drax is the villain from Moonraker who is a member of Blades along with Bond and M. 
> 
> VDL is not based on any specific person. Plenty of posh folks and aristos have 'non-English' names for all sorts of reasons. I like to think that his fam arrived with William of Orange and stayed, but who knows? Certainly, this septic isle has had plenty of back-n-forth with countries and people from all over the world for centuries and centuries - sometimes willingly, too!


	40. The Village Green Preservation Society

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you to everyone who's still reading and everyone who takes some time to comment - I really do appreciate it.
> 
> I hope you're all well and have everything you need right now. It's like 2020 looked at the dumpster fire of 2019 and thought 'eh, hold my beer'.
> 
> Now, a question which is *not* just an attempt to get more comments, I promise! 
> 
> Do you prefer short chapters more often or a decent chunk when it's ready? I don't know if the former is necessarily possible, but it could be. 
> 
> I know when I'm reading fic (seldom these days, for the most part) I prefer something a couple of thousand words long, but I know I also come from the old fandom way of 'we post when we're ready' without thinking about schedules or whatnot. I'm more curious than anything, but I also want to know what you prefer so I can act accordingly (or not).
> 
> Finally: you asked about Charlotte. Asked and (partly) answered...

After that first evening licking her wounds, Charlotte swore to be fine and so resumed her pre-Sidney routine. Spin-work-Sanditon-sleep, repeat.

She had two new books on her slate to edit, and the cinema industry was unfolding in ways she'd never expected - there was so much to learn! A week passed in that hazy of busyness.

On Saturday, she played with Gigi and the little Parkers on the beach and dunes - partly because she'd had no good excuse ready for why she couldn't.

Gigi hugged her and whispered remarks about Sidney being a dick, then said no more of it. The children had evidently been coached in some way because none of them said a word about their beloved Uncle Sidney for ages.

'Uncle Siddy's coming tomorrow!' Henry blurted, no longer able to keep his excitement to himself. 'He said he'd take me out on my bike before lunch and-'

'Henry!' Jenny scolded, tugging him away from Charlotte by the arm. 'Mummy _said_.'

'Oh!' Henry's lip trembled as he remembered. 'Sorry-'

Charlotte scooped him into a hug. Don't be upset, love. You can talk about Uncle Sidney if it makes you happy.'

'But Mummy said you were sad because...' Jenny frowned. 'Never mind.'

'It's really all right.' Charlotte stood. It was not all right, but what was she going to do? Not stop children talking freely, that was for sure. 'You don't have to pretend. I'm all right.'

'Are_ you_ coming to lunch tomorrow?' Alicia asked.

'No, sweetie.'

'Why? Because of Uncle Sidney? I hate him-'

'No, you do not! Don't say things you don't mean. You don't have to be angry at Uncle Sidney about _anything_. I'm going home to see my family. You see, I've been away such a long time.'

It was funny how a lie could sound like the truth. Perhaps... it would be easy enough to make that lie the truth.

Was Willingden really a better option than Sanditon? Bloody hell.

*

Willingden, like many a little English village, had a single bus stop and a single bus that stopped at it once a day in each direction. Charlotte had spent her entire life getting to and from Willingden and so timed her travels perfectly.

So it was that the bus trundled to a stop almost next to the between-the-wars concrete bus shelter and Charlotte Heywood and her rucksack disembarked. No sooner had her foot left the vehicle, the door closed and the driver got on their way: the quicker to get back to the bus station where a cup of revitalising tea would get them through the rest of their shift.

Charlotte paused a moment by the bus shelter. This had two purposes: to make sure her rucksack was securely fastened on her back and to let her glance around at the centre of the village and catalogue any changes.

There weren't many. She'd last been home before moving entirely to Sanditon - some eight months - and villages like Willingden did not change much in so short a time. For a village as old as Willingden, which had seen Romans march through - even a decade could not much alter it.

The rectory's new double glazing gleamed - Rev. Lucas had been fundraising for at least a year. The White Hart had evidently changed hands between pubcos again based on some of the branding.

The village green was a _little _changed: as the parish council had voted a few years earlier to convert some of it to a wildflower meadow. This was the first time she'd seen those changes come to literal flowering. A small sign at the edge of green read: _Courtesy of the Willingden village green preservation society. _Underneath someone had written a remarkably neat graffito: _God save Donald Duck, vaudeville and variety. _

She'd bet good money that the culprit was Uncle Stew.

Charlotte was relieved to see that The Shop was still open, that there was still a post office counter advertised, and that the bakery looked like it was still in operation.

The garage, on the other hand, was boarded up and its two pumps - diesel and unleaded petrol - were disconnected.

It was all the best kind of bucolic prettiness as far as Charlotte was concerned, and she allowed herself a long deep breath before turning east to walk to the Heywood farm.

She passed by the cricket pitch: the under-11s were playing in the afternoon sun while their parents watched from the pavilion,

'Charlotte!'

She paused and waited as one of those parents ran over to her.

'Hey, Andy.'

'You all right?'

'Yep. You all right?'

'Yeah. Luke's bowling at the moment. See?'

She squinted into the sun, seeing the shadow of a small boy ready to bowl. 'Great!'

'If you're home a while maybe we can get you playing again?'

'Ha! Maybe so.'

'Are you back long?'

'Dunno yet. Probably not that long. Lot of work-'

'Your mum said to my mum that you're building a cinema!'

'Helping renovate one. In Sanditon.'

'Oh yeah? We drove past there a few weeks ago on the way from Battle to Eastbourne.'

'Well, don't drive past next time. Mention me at the Coffee Cabin, and Mary'll get you all free ice cream. It's made just down the road.'

'Fab! Well, I'd better get back. Nice to see you! I...' Andy looked away a moment. 'I'm glad you're OK.'

'Me? I'm good. You?'

'Good. Yeah. Most of the time.'

'Yeah.' Charlotte nodded. Might as well be honest. 'Most of the time.'

'I'm...' Andy cleared his throat. 'I still go to church, and I stop by every week, you know?'

She managed what was probably not a broad smile. 'I'm glad. I... I don't want them to be alone, and I know that's logically and rationally stupid-'

'It's not stupid. But I must get back. Lukey doesn't like me missing too much.'

'See you around, Andy.'

'Small village, you definitely will.'

She laughed politely at that and continued on her way, skirting around the cricket field, past the bland, boxy little new build houses on the main Robertsbridge-Willingden road and along and up the rising hill to the Heywood farm.

On another day, she might climb over the stile and cross through the farm's fields. Her parents weren't expecting her just yet, and she didn't fancy having the police called on her - not again, anyway.

The road twisted up along the ridge, and after the not-very-extreme bend that had done for Tom Parker's car one night, she was stood at the gate, looking through to the ancient Heywood manor.

It was red brick and real Tudor - not the fake rubbish in the Tunbridge suburbs - and the garden was in its late summer bloom. She pushed the gate open, entered, shut it again carefully and started along the path.

She did not get far before her mother's voice rose up somewhere close by: 'Charlotte! Oh, Charlotte's home!'

Charlotte looked around and located her mother knelt down by one of her prize rosebushes - the rare_ Helen Cushing rose _if her memory served. Mama Heywood greeted her with an excited wave of secateurs, which she sensibly closed before standing and brushing earth from her apron.

'Hello!' Charlotte waved. 'I tried to ring from the bus, but you didn't pick up.'

'Left the bloody thing indoors. Just gets dirty out here.'

'And Daddy's excuse?'

'Who knows, darling?' Mrs Heywood gave her a sweetly scented hug and kiss to her cheek. 'How long are you home?'

'Dunno yet. A week, maybe?'

'How lovely! It'd be awfully helpful if you could get up into the loft for a few things. I don't like to ask Dad with his knee the way it is-'

'What's wrong with his knee?' 

'Oh, nothing much-'

'Nothing much but you don't want him climbing ladders?'

'Don't fuss.'

'Mama-'

'Don't _mama _me, Charlotte. Now, I shall finish here and see about getting you some food. You look like you need a proper meal. Never eating properly-'

'_Mother_.'

'Oh, hush. Go and find Dad. He's in the yard, I think. Or the barn.'

'OK.' Charlotte moved away but paused when she heard her mother speak again:

'I'm delighted you're home, darling.'

'Me too.'

She ditched her rucksack in the kitchen, where she stole several fat red cherries from the bowl of freshly picked fruit, before leaving through the back door. 

The Heywood estate was a bit of an oddity. Its front was all beautiful old manor house, but beyond that, it was a working farm. The yard behind the house was a typical small farmyard: free-roaming chickens, four geese at the moment, and a couple of ducks who'd come up from the pond in search of scran.

The outbuildings were the usual mix of age and styles. The barn beyond the yard was a modern addition while the small stables were almost as old as the house. The old grain store and milking sheds were somewhere between the two extremes in their age. Still, the two gleaming, huge metal silos beyond the fields were the newest addition, and Charlotte had yet to feel at ease with them towering over the farm, casting their shiny, commercially-focused shadow literally and metaphorically.

'Hey, Charlotte!'

'It's Charlotte! Hello, kid!'

'Dzień dobry, Charlotte!'

She'd caught some of the farm's team as they came in for a break. There was the usual mix of locals and men who'd come from places like Poland for the seasonal work.

'Hello!' she called as they crossed the yard. 'How goes it?'

She listened to their grumbles with good humour. A couple of the younger men had news to share: new fiancees, new babies or a new car or some other landmark and she greeted each piece of news with sincere pleasure.

'Have you seen my dad?' she asked at a suitable break in the conversation.

'Milking sheds.'

'Cool. See you all in a bit.'

Charlotte walked around the old grain store, around the barn and across the dirt track leading towards the fields, to reach the milking sheds.

Mr Heywood was inordinately proud of his milking shed. It was state of the art when built a decade earlier and had allowed him to keep the farm going. Farmgate prices were _trash,_ but at least he could produce enough to supply Waitrose with organic milk.

As she didn't fancy getting trussed up in all the health and safety and hygiene gear required inside the shed, Charlotte stayed outside, perched on the fence, until her father emerged.

He stopped, blinked twice and then grinned. 'Little Miss Charlotte came home, did she?'

'She did.'

'How long?'

'A week, maybe?'

'Good, good. Your mother won't let me get up in the loft for her bloody embroidery box.'

'She said your knee-'

'It's fine, it's fine. She's just a fuss-pot.'

'Yeah? Climb up here, then.'

'I am not in the habit of sitting on fences, young miss. Especially to prove some point.'

'Yeah, right. I know a physio in Sanditon now, maybe I can-'

'Don't fuss like your mother. What are you doing here?'

'Visiting my beloved family?'

'You haven't been back in months.'

It suddenly struck her how much like Sidney bloody Parker she'd been - he'd gone months without seeing his family, and she'd judged him for it, and here she was...

'You all right, Charlotte?'

'Yeah, yeah. I didn't mean to be gone so long. Time just ran away.'

'It does that. Last time I recall you sitting on that fence, you were still losing your milk teeth.'

'You think you're so funny.'

'I am so funny. Well known around these parts what a jester I am.'

This was decidedly not true. George Heywood was known as a sober, sensible and pragmatic man not given to silliness or nonsense. He did, however, have a very dry sense of humour, mainly when directed at himself.

'I saw Andy on the way down here.'

'His young Luke's a fine little bowler, I reckon.'

'Yeah? Good.'

'You're back in time for the Old Timers' Match-'

'No, thank you.'

'Oh, come on-'

'I am not playing against you lot again! You're a bunch of fucking cheating arseholes-'

'Language!'

'Sorry, but you are.' She winced - there were people she could swear in front of and her dad still wasn't one of them. 'Last time, you bribed Reverend Lucas to double-count your runs, and you had more LBWs than the entire county cricket league all season!'

'Now, I prefer to think of us as tactical-'

'You lot can't bear to lose to younger, fitter, _better _cricketers!'

'There's that, an' all. But it's for a good cause.'

'Yeah? What this year? I see the rectory's got its windows-'

'It's for Mind.'

'Oh. OK. Well... yeah, of course. But you really need to pledge not to cheat quite as bad as last year.'

Mr Heywood saluted. 'Yes, General!'

'Sod off.' She paused. 'Does Karen know you're raising money for Mind?'

'Yup.'

'What did she say?'

'She doesn't say a lot these days, tell you the truth. But she seemed pleased.'

'OK.' Charlotte slid down off the fence, and her father pulled her into a one-armed hug.

'I'm glad you're home, Charlotte. For however long we get you. I'm as like to have a word with that Tom Parker about stealing you away.'

'They didn't steal me away, Daddy. Just...'

'I know. I'm teasing. What's got you so grim all of a sudden?'

'Nothing. Just tired.'

_ Just tired _had been an effective excuse for such a long time.

'Well, now you're home, I hope you'll get some rest. You work too hard.'

'And you're over-qualified to recognise that, old man.'

'Ah,' he pretended to cuff her around the ear. 'Don't talk back to your betters.'

'I won't, once I meet them.'

'Yes,' Mr Heywood said, his usual taciturn demeanour cracking a little. 'I am happy to have you home.'

'I'm happy to be here.' She meant it, even as she knew the feeling couldn't last.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick couple of notes:
> 
> The Kinks Are The Village Green Preservation Society is an album by (no surprise) the Kinks from 1968 - it was actually released on the same day as the White Album.
> 
> Mind is one of the big charities involved with mental health here in the UK.


	41. The Cherry Tree

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I so appreciate your comments and kudos and just plain reading - I don't do this *for* those things but they are really nice.
> 
> So, I had some time on trains today and managed to get a chunk o' writing done. It's probably somewhere between 'short' and 'longer' in the word count stakes which is not a conscious decision based on your replies last time but... is how it worked out. Which, let's be real, is really how I roll even if I try for short/frequent or longer/less frequent. What can I say, except I'm mercurial?
> 
> I don't know if this needs a content note exactly but there are allusions to suicide and a depiction of the way in which it can affect people. If this is something you'd rather not read, I recommend skipping the section that begins "Burials in the last 75 years were in the new cemetery" and ends "Eddie gently grasp her by the arm and lead her away."

If Sanditon felt like it was stuck in the past, Willingden seemed more like it existed outside time. Days passed in quiet but definite endeavour, and it was not until Gigi sent a message about her exam results that Charlotte even really noticed the passage of time.

That was the great and terrible thing about places like Willingden. It was lovely while it was happening, and then one day you woke up and found twenty years had passed without you achieving any of your dreams.

Gigi’s message was a simple one: HA! Accompanied by a picture of the sheet of paper that very officially told her that she was very intelligent indeed.

** Me: ** Well done! You deserve it.  
**Gigi: **I didn’t think I’d get an A in Physics but HA HA HA HA BOW DOWN  
**Me: **How did Bella do?  
**Gigi: ** Really well but she works really hard so  
**Me: **So do you. Well done, you both!  
**Gigi: **Are you all right?  
**Me: ** Yes.  
**Gigi: ** Really?  
**Me: ** Yes. They keep me busy on the farm.  
**Gigi: **Being busy doesn’t mean you’re all right. 

A pause.

** Gigi: ** He hasn’t been back since that Sunday. You can come home if you want. Don’t stay away because of HIM.  
**Me: **I’m not. My parents need some help.  
**Gigi: ** For how long?  
**Me: **I’ll probably stay until after my dad’s birthday.

A pause.

** Gigi: ** Will you be back before I go back to school?  
**Me: **Don’t know. But I’ll make sure to visit soon. If that’s allowed?  
**Gigi: **Yeah, on weekends. And half term.  
**Me: **We’ll find a good time then.

The conversation faded for a few days then, until Gigi resumed her steady stream of chatter about the things that took up much of her attention. She sent pictures of the Parkers during the final days of the school holidays. Mary looked significantly more tired in these pictures than she had when school first broke up.

It also took Charlotte eleven days to traipse across the fields, back into the village, past the green and the shops, to the church.

St Nicholas' Church was, as much of Willingden, most ancient. Parts of the church dated back beyond decent record-keeping, but it was generally agreed that Thomas Becket had stopped there once on his way between Canterbury and wherever else he’d been.

The churchyard had finally run out of space for new burials about 75 years earlier - Charlotte’s great-grandparents were the most recent burials, taking their place in the corner of the yard given over to centuries of dead Heywoods.

*

Burials in the last 75 years were in the new cemetery, separated from the ancient churchyard by a low stone wall. It was to here that Charlotte directed her feet, and to a place under a mature cherry tree.

There were several headstones for the members of the Shelley family gathered there. Some were old, their stone worn and dull. There was one, though, whose gold lettering gleamed and black granite shone.

_SHELLEY  
_ _LUCY and DANIEL  
_ _Called early to God’s side_

A set of bright blue and pink artificial flowers poked out of the stone’s built-in vase. A bunch of fresh flowers rested on the stone itself - Andy, she presumed.

The weather, having been consistently warm and dry for weeks, allowed Charlotte to sit directly on the grass, and this she did.

For how long she sat there, Charlotte neither measured nor knew in general. She’d once fallen asleep in the shadow of the Shelley tree, back when the stone was still on order and the ground was uneven from recent disruption.

‘You’re back.’

Charlotte’s head snapped up at the voice. There stood Karen Shelley, her expression as stony as any grave marker. She seemed to Charlotte to have aged at least five years in the last year or so since they’d been in company together.

‘Hello, Mrs Shelley.’ Charlotte wanted to make some politely meaningless question like _are you well_? But the answer could not possibly be yes, so she did not.

‘I heard you were back.’

‘For a little while, yes.’

‘I suppose you’re having fun in Eastbourne or wherever it is you’ve gone.’

Charlotte hid a wince with some effort. ‘Working hard, mostly.’

‘Hmm.’ Karen did not seem convinced. ‘I saw your mother. She said you’re doing very well with your job and something to do with a cinema.’

‘I’m trying, Mrs Shelley.’

For five years, Charlotte could not tell whether Lucy and Daniel’s mother wanted her to succeed where they could not - or if she wished Charlotte a floundering failure of a life, where her children had none at all.

Dismantling her expectations of answering this question was a recurring theme in Charlotte's conversations with her psychotherapist. While it was easy enough to deal with ordinarily, it was a different proposition when the woman was right in front of her.

Mrs Shelley was ten years younger than Charlotte's own parents, but the stress and enduring grief of losing two children to suicide, made her look twenty-five older. And Charlotte had no idea how to help. That had been another conversation with Sarah the psychotherapist.

_ This is not your problem to solve, Charlotte_, she had said. It was hard at the sight of the lady before her: all skin and bones and sadness.

'I don't know what to say, Mrs Shelley,' Charlotte said once the crushing silence became too much. It seemed like even the birds in the trees had gone quiet.

Mrs Shelley did not reply for so long that Charlotte wondered if she'd heard or just didn't want to. Then: 'You used to call me Karen.'

It was true: Karen Shelley had always been the kind of grown-up who wanted children to call her by her name, not her title. Charlotte had liked that a lot when she was small, without necessarily knowing why.

'Yeah. I... I don't-'

'Nothing's the same.'

'I can... if you like.'

'Won't matter. None of it matters.'

This was the kind of conversation they'd had several times in the last five years and always left Charlotte feeling destroyed.

'I wish I could help.'

'I know. You're a good girl. There's nothing to do.' Karen stared down at the headstone, tapped it lightly once with a bony finger, and walked away without another word.

Charlotte let her go without argument, but she stood and followed behind to make sure Karen got home safely. She need not have worried: Eddie was waiting at the church gate. 

He did a double-take. 'Charlotte? You're back.'

'Just for a visit, Ed. Are you... how are you? You graduated, my mum says.'

'Yeah.' He shrugged. 'Just from agricultural college.'

'No _just _about that, Eddie. Congratulations.'

He shrugged again. 'Thanks. Mum, it's time for lunch. Bye, Charlotte. Nice to see you.'

Karen barely responded, except to let Eddie gently grasp her by the arm and lead her away. 

*

Charlotte could not bear to return to the cherry tree, nor could she face going home just yet. After stopping at the shop for Cadbury Buttons and a Freddo - like she was five and released from church with some change in her hand - she settled down on the green.

As a child, she'd sprawled on the grass. Sometimes with Nicky, later with Alison too... and yes, with Lucy and Daniel. Now, she sat on the log installed as a bench amongst the wildflowers.

One bite of Freddo and Charlotte wept. For Lucy, for Daniel. For Karen and Eddie losing their family; for Andy losing his best friend as she lost hers. She cried at the loss of Willingden as a place of sanctuary; for the loss of innocence the moment she got the first call; for the loss of hope with the second. She cried for herself and the tumult of the past couple of months. She cried for being foolish, for opening up, for trusting and being let down. She cried for the emotional barriers she hated but couldn't bear to lose. She cried for the struggles she saw her parents enduring without complaint. She cried for Willingden itself, for the way of life that everyone pretended hadn't died with the advent of industrial-scale mechanised farming... and the lack of chances that left Lucy behind as she buggered off - just as she'd done by going to Sanditon.

She cried with guilt at living and prospering; she cried for not feeling guilty. 

Her Freddo slipped from her fingers, dropping into the flowers and grass at her feet.

After some time - it was not a day for strictly following the passage of the same - someone joined her and put an arm around her shoulders. 

'Hello, Skips. Nice day, eh?'

Charlotte turned to bury her face into Uncle Stew's chest, feeling another stab of guilt that she hadn't even known he was back from Italy. 

Uncle Stew comforted her without complaint - except one: 'Terrible waste of a Freddo, that.'

When she was able, Charlotte took several deep breaths and dried her eyes with the back of her hand. Uncle Stew waited for her to speak.

'Uncle Stew.'

'As I continue to live and breathe. Now, what's occurring?'

She took a deep breath and started to tell him about her run-in with Karen and Eddie.

'Smart kid, that one. He's coming to work at the vineyard with me. As for Karen... you know we're all trying to help.'

'I do, but... I _forgot_.'

'Forgot?'

'How bad it is. How... I_ forgot _all about-'

'You've been living your life. Nothing wrong with that. Not a damned thing.'

'Yeah, but-'

'Charlotte. What's going on? Why are you back and why are you crying on Maudie Fittleworth's hard work?' He nudged a daisy with his flip-flop by way of demonstration.

She hadn't spoken to Mary or Gigi, nor to her siblings or parents, but Charlotte did tell Uncle Stew. Uncle Stew always listened, took her seriously and never, ever judged.

'He sounds like a bit of a dick, Skips,' he said.

She laughed now. 'Yeah, he is.'

'On the spectrum of dicks, wankers and arseholes he seems like he's at the least-bad end, though. Must have something to recommend himself if my Skipper likes him. High standards, you've got. Always have had. Always meant for more than this place. I always said so.'

This was also true. In a family and a village where fitting in was vital, Uncle Stew was an outlier and recognised the same in her. This, she was reasonably sure, was why she was his favourite and vice versa. He'd paid her university accommodation, so she had the freedom to move away. He'd paid for her psychotherapist to avoid waiting for the NHS. He'd been her person for as far back as anyone could remember.

'Most of all,' Uncle Stew gave her a hug again. 'I want you to be happy. Will you be happy here in Willingden?'

'Fuck, no.'

He chuckled. 'That's my Skips. Stay til the birthday party, then bugger off home, will you?'

'OK.'

'Need more sessions with Sarah? I can-'

'I can afford it.'

'Yeah, but I'd rather you spent your money on something fun.'

'You don't have to-'

'I know I don't have to. I'm going to do it anyway. Give her a ring. Might as well get stuck in while you're here.'

'OK.'

'Want me to walk home with you?'

'No, you're all right. Will you... will you tell them about this?'

'Charlotte, you were crying on the village green. Someone else will have already told them.'

'You know, Sanditon's a small town by most standards, but this place really takes the biscuit.'

'Yeah, but on the bright side soon all the houses will be owned by wankers from London who'd piss on you soon as look at you.' Uncle Stew nudged her shoulder. 'Go home before they send a search party out for you.'

As this was a distinct possibility, Charlotte did as he said. She had never left an interaction with Uncle Stew feeling worse than when it started, and this was no exception. At the very least, _someone _knew what her life had become.

*


	42. Needs Chilli

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the awesome comments - I really am so glad that you've enjoyed the last few chapters, which haven't been sweetness and light.
> 
> So, just a quick one today partly to get past some stuff but also because it's the last bit of commute-based scribbling I had to type up.
> 
> Now, serious business: I hope all are well and doing what you need to do.
> 
> As I'm clearly not going to be allowed to sit in coffee shops or my library in order to write, I genuinely do not have a Scooby Doo as to when/how I'll be able to write. We'll really just have to see how it all unfolds.
> 
> Now, this chapter involves a depiction of part of a therapy session. I make no claim to be in any way qualified in any respect and this should not be considered in any way a realistic or proper depiction of such. I'm not going to go into loads of detail about such sessions or therapy because a: it's not actually interesting to read and b: I'm simply not qualified to do so.
> 
> If you feel that part isn't something you feel comfortable reading, stop at 'I understand. So, Sidney... you've come to me.'
> 
> and then skip forward to 'Sidney left Jackie's office 90 minutes later...'
> 
> Oh, one more thing I forgot last time - 'Maudie Fittleworth' is borrowed from a recurring joke on the epic, legendary Radio 4 panel show Just a Minute. Vale, Nick.

September remained gloriously - mercifully - sunny. Sidney's routine settled down to work and home until the day came that he was due at his first appointment with the psychologist Ellie found for him.

The office was not far from his own office - he was rather glad to not be going to the rarefied air of Harley Street where he might run into familiar faces. It was based in a plain, anonymous 1990s box of a place, built around the same time as Canary Wharf had been regenerated.

The receptionist was the kind of well-trained sort: welcoming while being absolutely neutral about anything Sidney might say or do. The reception itself was the kind of neutrally pleasant place that could offend nobody except in its absolute inoffensiveness.

He took a seat on the too-low-for-him sofa and waited, both more and less nervous than he'd expected to me. More, because he had no idea what he was letting himself in for; and less because he was now sure that this was what he must do.

The door to the therapist's own office opened, and she poked her head out. 'Come in, Sidney.'

The psychologist was a woman barely older than him by her appearance, with an open, friendly expression that screamed: "tell me your problems!" He would hazard a guess that she was Anglo-Indian but would be happy to be corrected.

He passed her in the doorway and took a seat in the black faux-leather chair set aside for him.

'I'm Jackie,' she said, an Irish accent correcting at least part of his guess, taking her own armchair next to her desk and reaching for her notepad. 'It's good to meet you.'

'Like Jacqueline?' he asked, solely to make conversation.

'Nope,' she said, not missing a beat. 'Jackie is my government name.'

She used this phrase with a twinkle in her eye.

'Yeah?'

'My dad named me after Jackie Charlton when Ireland beat England in Stuttgart in '88. I tell you this, so you know that you're not the only person in the room who has burdens to carry.'

He stretched his legs out. 'It's a good name. You came recommended-'

The twinkle faded. 'I won't talk about any other clients - even to confirm or deny they are clients - just as I won't speak about you to anyone.'

'Good! I mean, I just meant my assistant said someone recommended you. I don't- I'm not asking you to break any confidences.'

'I understand. So, Sidney... you've come to me.'

'Yeah.'

'The questionnaire you kindly completed online gave me some idea of how I can help, but I'd like to hear from you what you're expecting from these sessions and how you think I can be of service. Is that a question you feel comfortable answering?'

He cleared his throat, having prepared for that. 'Yeah, why not. I mean, if you _can _help.'

'Sidney, if it's any reassurance, you won't be the last person to come in here today who's sceptical about psychotherapy.'

'I'm not. I know it helps a lot of people. I just can't see how I'll be one of them.'

'Well, let's find out, shall we? You mentioned you were in a fight-'

'Boxing match.'

'OK, apologies for my misinterpretation.'

'It was unofficial. And it went a bit far. So...' Sidney cleared his throat again. 'Yeah, "fight" is just as accurate.'

'OK. You said in your comments that you broke six of your opponent's teeth.'

'He can afford to get them fixed.'

'OK.'

'Rupert Vanderleyden deserves-'

'It was that guy?'

'Yeah.'

'Well then, I do understand the impulse to smash his face in.'

'Sure...' Sidney looked at her, wondering what she was about.

'The impulse, yes. Giving into it is another matter.'

'I suppose.'

'I think you do know that because you're here and you mentioned it in your questionnaire in some detail. So, if you like, we can use this as our starting point for the wider question of why you're here.'

'OK.'

'What was going through your head when you were fighting?'

'Nothing. That's why I like a good fight. Boxing match.'

'How were you feeling before the match?'

Sidney took a deep breath. He could lie. He could weave a tale, or he could tell a partial truth, as was his particular speciality.

But what would be the point of that?

'Well...' he took a deep breath and made his choice. "This might take a while.'

'We've got time.'

*

Sidney left Jackie's office 90 minutes later with limbs like lead and head at once full and light.

Something about her manner had encouraged him to start sharing and carry on until a reminder ping on her phone went to note the session was coming to a close. Jackie listened without judgement - her job, of course - and occasionally asked for clarification. Otherwise, he'd been free to ramble, speak and blather.

At the end of the appointment, she'd set her notebook down. 'Well, Sidney, it sounds like you've been carrying a lot around with you for a very long time.'

'Yeah.' It hadn't really occurred to him like that. 'Am I irredeemably fucked?'

'Nobody is, Sidney. I do think you have a lot of work to do and you can't expect an overnight transformation. I can't give you a prescription for a course of pills for a fortnight and bam, fixed.'

'I don't expect that.'

Then, he'd been set free with some homework and a request to set up his next appointment with Taj at reception. That done, he was free for the rest of the day. He got the Jubilee line back into the centre of town and walked the back streets from Bond Street to home, not keen to be too close to people. 

At home, Arthur was in the kitchen, cleaning up after making whatever was now in the oven. 'How'd it go?'

Sidney slid onto one of the stools. 'Fine.

The cooking smell was familiar, but he couldn't quite place it. 'What's for scoff?'

'I thought you'd be hungry so I made some dinner. Bit early maybe-'

'You didn't have to-'

'Yeah, but I thought of my favourite comfort food, and I hadn't made lasagne for ages and-'

Oh, now he could place it! It was their mother's recipe, learnt from Zun's mother and adapted to her boys' particular wants. Sidney hadn't smelled this in... how long? Not since before he'd moved away, surely. Ten years, at least. 

'Oh, Sid! I'm sorry-'

He looked up. 'What for?'

'I didn't think-'

'Why the fuss, Arthur?'

His little brother blinked several times. 'Because- Sid, you do know you're crying, right?'

He did not know and almost objected when he felt the tears drip from his face to his hands. Fat, hot, uncontrollable tears. 'Well, that's new.'

'You don't have to eat it! I'll throw it away-'

'No, don't! It's all right.' Sidney swiped the tears away even though they kept coming. 'I didn't even know you could...'

'Auntie Lally taught me. Well actually, she spoke to Mrs Terroni and then we did our best. Mummy did it without a recipe, you see. And she changed things. We realised she added a third more cheese because it was Tom's favourite, and there's less onion because you don't like them. There's more carrot because it was the only way I'd eat vegetables and... I still haven't worked out something missing.'

'Did you put in the chilli?'

'Chilli? In a lasagne?'

'Yeah. I made her put some in because I liked Chilli con Carne better. Just enough for me, not so much you and Tom - you everlasting wusses - would be bothered.'

'Well, fuck me, I should've asked you ages ago!' Arthur actually smacked his forehead like a cartoon character. 'Next time.'

'I bet it's nice, even without it.'

'Hope so...' Arthur paused in his drying up to approach. 'You want a hug?'

'Me? Hug?'

'Yeah.' Arthur pulled him into a bear hug that lifted him off the stool like he weighed nothing. 'Is that better?'

'Can't breathe.' A pause. 'Yeah.'

Arthur released him after another moment. 'How did it go? The _thing_?'

'I'm fucked up, turns out.'

'Pssh, I could've told you that.'

'Naturally.' Sidney reached for a clementine from the fruit bowl. 'It was bizarre. But not bad. Necessary, certainly.'

Arthur nodded. 'Gotcha. Do you... This is going to take a while if you want to go chill the kriff out.'

'OK. Thanks, Artie. You're good people.'

Arthur grinned and returned to the washing and drying up. 'It is known.'

Sidney stood, still feeling leaden limbed. 'I'll be in the library.'

'Right you are, bruv.'

*


	43. BotB

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the kind comments last time!
> 
> I hope you're all as healthy and well as might be expected. These are strange times and they're playing havoc with my ability to focus. I actually slept more of Sunday than I was awake, for one thing.
> 
> ETA: So, I tried to save time by dictating my longhand scribbles into my phone. It does not love my cockney accent and cannot pick homophones by context so there were some weird errors. I thought I'd picked them all up but apparently not, because "Charlotte side" instead of "Charlotte sighed" and a couple of other clangers slipped through. I'll always try to pick up all the errors and typos but it was nearly 2 am when I posted this morning so... I'll try to pick stuff up and when I don't, I'll come back and fix 'em eventually.

Time has one particular inextricable characteristic, and that is its inexorable movement. Scientific and spiritual theories may complicate this, but the simple fact is that time _always continues_. 

You cannot stop time. You cannot change time. You cannot trace time.

So it was for Sidney Parker and Charlotte Heywood. The summer slipped away from the UK as September shifted from its _Back to Skool _start into the reality of routine in its middle.

Sidney visited Jackie twice a week at first; Charlotte hunkered down in her childhood bedroom to edit a German language textbook and to deal with the minutiae of Sanditon regeneration from a slight distance. This latter activity mostly involved keeping Tom Parker's email inbox under control.

Time, you see, passes.

*

Contrary to generally held belief, London was not the be-all and end-all of UK live music.

The Sussex music scene centred, quite reasonably, around Brighton, but even Sanditon had a small live music ecosystem. Mostly, the bands were too young or poor to leave. Still, they were just as hard-working and dedicated as any, and they took over the Countess of Worcester every Friday and Saturday night.

The All Sussex Battle of the Bands would be hosted by Sanditon that year - some not very subtle lobbying by Tom Parker made sure of it. The Assembly Rooms were the very picture of faded glamour and derelict grandeur, which suited many of the scruffy-on-purpose artists very well indeed.

Any such event needed judges and, as Tom Parker had all the musical instinct of an 11-year-old Bay City Rollers fan in 1973, he was only too happy to delegate, as a deliberately short notice phone call.

'Please, Sidney.'

'I'm really very busy.' Sidney was actually trying to navigate the late rush-hour crowd at Canary Wharf station at that very moment. 'Get someone else.'

'Charlotte recommended you.'

'_Charlotte _did?' Sidney's heart _stuttered_.

'He is a pseudo-Byronic dickhead with excellent musical tastes. A direct quote. And you are. I mean, you have such splendid musical taste!'

'Will_ she_ be there? '

'Not sure. Something about her dad's birthday. '

'Couldn't she be a judge, then?'

'They wanted a _Parker._'

Of course - it was much more likely that Tom insisted a member of the family represent. Sidney rolled his eyes and calculated the effort of refusal compared to acquiescence. 'Fine. I'll be down on Saturday.'

'Come on Friday, stay with us.'

'No.' Too much possibility of running into Charlotte. 

His whole soul was a raw, open wound at the moment, and there was much too much possibility of his making matters even worse than they were.

'Pub quiz, Sidney!'

'Can't. You've already persuaded me to up-end my entire weekend's plans, Tom.'

A huff of breath at the other end. 'Fine, fine. See you on Saturday. TTFN.'

The click to end the call that silence in Sidney's ear. He'd avoided Sanditon since taking Gigi to school, supposing it was for the best. Charlotte deserved to keep her sanctuary, after all.

*

Despite not particularly wanting to take part, once signed up, Sidney took his judging seriously. He spent the fortnight listening to each of the competing bands, hoping some familiarity would help his decision on the night.

In truth, they were much of a muchness: three indie bands precisely like every indie band since 1997; two death metal bands; four singer-songwriters who were very proficient but hadn't an original notion between them. They were all very _young _and might one day be much better. They weren't yet, though, and he would have to try harder to find positive things to say. Unless they'd chosen him to be the pet bastard for the evening? It would hardly be the first time.

The drive down on Saturday morning was unexceptional. A quick glance at the cinema renovations was intriguing - with Milo's money providing a full work crew, the fabric of the building was well on its way to being absolutely sound.

He was almost _excited _at the sight. None of it would even have happened if Charlotte hadn't yelled at him; if she hadn't _cared_. He adored how much heart she threw into everything. Even into _him_, once.

His heart ached a moment, and he reached for some of his new mental exercises to stop spiralling into recrimination and self-loathing. Having parked at Trafalgar House, he meandered down to the Coffee Cabin to find Mary, although he checked in the window for Charlotte before going inside.

Mary beamed at the sight of him as she served a teenager something sugary-looking. 'Sidney! Oh, the children will be so happy to see you! Arthur took them to the park for a while. Gingerbread latte first?'

He nodded, not able to meet her gaze - not just yet. 'Yeah, thanks. Everyone well?'

'Yes, I think so. Jenny's doing very well at her piano now she's putting a bit of effort in. Alicia's loving football. Henry is still getting used to being at school all day... but I'm delighted to be taking everyone to the same building at the same time at last!'

'And Tom?'

'Running himself into the ground as always. Once the pavilion was clearly not going to happen this year, he threw himself at Battle of the Bands and the cinema.'

'The cinema? He's not-'

Mary, as usual, knew what he was thinking of before he could speak it: 'Charlotte's away at the moment, so Tom's doing the on-site stuff. He's still keeping her in the loop, I assure you.'

'She's away?'

Mary frowned and he could see her weighing up what to tell him.

Sidney sighed, leaning against the counter as she doled out a precise shot of syrup for his drink. 'Just tell me. I'm getting industrial strength therapy at the moment, so I won't punch anything.'

'She went back to her parents' house just after... everything. She's still there, as far as I know.'

'Oh.' So much for leaving Sanditon to Charlotte... 'Do you expect her back?'

'Of course! She's just staying until her father's birthday as far as I know.'

Sidney successfully fought the urge to ask when that might be, not least because he had a suspicion she'd mentioned it to him at some point and he could not now recall. 'Right then.'

'Here...' she slid the steaming cup to him. 'Your table is free.'

Sidney took his drink to the table, stretched his legs out as he liked and immediately tamped down a strong urge to have Charlotte sat there with him. Outside, tourists and locals milled around doing their Saturday business. The former group were smaller than they had been the last time Sidney had been in town - summer was over, and Sanditon's levels of activity reduced every day.

Coffee drunk and feeling a little better, Sidney was thus prepared for the onslaught of affection that arrived with his nieces, nephew and brother. Such was their happiness at seeing Uncle Sidney that it was a full fifteen minutes before he could wrangle them into a state fit to get home. There they spent a pleasant afternoon playing kick about in the garden and Jenny got to show off her developing piano skills.

It was much like his visits before summer, in which the children rushed to tell and show and do all the things before Uncle Sidney disappeared again.

And that was how Sidney's heart broke again. He had known intellectually that the children missed him before, but until now, he hadn't really seen the effect on them.

'Uncle Siddy?' Henry asked, holding a colourful book in his hands. 'Will you do bedtime? Please?'

Sidney blinked back a tear or two and reached for the book. 'Of course I will. Come on, lickle boo.'

*

The assembly rooms were ready – just about – when Sidney arrived. He tried to dress down a bit to suit the occasion, but the idea of wearing jeans and a T-shirt was ridiculous. So, he went with his most casual waistcoat and trouser combo, hoping a dark purple shirt was at least less investment banker than usual.

The hall felt eerie in the pre-event quiet, and he hesitated, unsure where to go.

The stage was set up ready for a show - a decent drumkit, a series of microphones, monitors and amplifiers. 

A table was ready for the judges, decorated with some shiny tinsel and cheap nameplates: Sidney Parker; Jason Robinson; Melanie Christakis.

'Hey, Sidney! '

He turned to look for the source of the voice: Chas was at the bar, shifting crates of beer. 'What'll it be?'

'San Miguel will do unless you've anything more exciting? '

'Come to the pub afterwards. In the meantime...' Chas handed over a bottle of beer.

'Right you are,' he replied, although "afterwards" felt a very long time ahead.

He'd barely taken a sip from the bottle when fetched by a clipboard bearing woman who took him into a reasonably poky green room to wait until the gig began.

An unbearably fashionable young man with bright green hair was already there and stuck a hand out in greeting. 'Jason. You must be Sid.'

'Sidney. Yes. Nice to meet you.' It wasn't, but he could be polite when required. 'I suppose you're Jason?'

'Yep! Can't wait to meet Mel. Real life actual celeb. I'm Sussex famous, but she's _famous _-famous.'

Sidney hadn't heard of either of them but didn't think it polite to say so. He and Jason hung out awkwardly until the door opened and admitted not Melanie (whoever she was) but Charlotte Heywood. She looked _furious. _And newly arrived, from the looks of her.

Sidney's heart practically leapt into his throat even as it stopped beating. 'Charlotte!'

She ignored him. 'Jason, Melanie's flight was cancelled because of the weather, and she's stuck in Rome. I'm sorry you won't meet her after all - I know you were looking forward to it.'

'Oh –'

'Sorry. We have another judge –'

Sidney's heart leapt again. 'You?'

She ignored him. 'Mark from Southbound Radio is on his way.'

Sidney frowned. 'Three men judging a bunch of young women? I'm not sure I like those odds. Or optics.'

Charlotte scowled – he'd made a good point, and she knew it. 'Yeah. Well, it's too late –'

'Be a judge.'

'Nobody knows me.'

'Course they do –'

'In Sanditon maybe, but not–'

'It's the easiest solution.'

'Fuck off, Parker.' Charlotte huffed, turned on her heels and walked out.

Jason looked between him and the door as it slammed. 'Well, she doesn't like you much.'

'No.'

'What you do? Did you not call her the next day?'

'No, much worse.'

'Ah. You're stupid then. Charlotte is great.'

'I'm aware.'

'Of your being stupid or her being great?'

'Both. Now Jason, please do me a favour and shut up. '

Jason recoiled. 'Wanker. '

'Yeah, I know that too. '

*

Tom Parker was hosting the All Sussex Battle of the Bands and was, in fairness, doing a decent job. He was, for all his faults, an excellent, gregarious host, even if 95% of the under-25 audience had no clue who he was.

He introduced his brother first, then Jason, then Charlotte. She earned a few cheers but mostly silence and boos for_ not _being Melanie (who was, Sidney learnt from a quick google, an influencer of some sort) which made him want to punch the audience. 

Mercifully, Jason had the centre seat, and Sidney was able to at least try to focus on the matter at hand.

Each act received feedback from the judges after their set. 

Charlotte went for thoughtful, kind feedback; he fell into the role of honest but brutal – he understood this was his point in being there. He enjoyed the hate he received from sections of the audience as it chimed with his own opinion of himself. Then, he remembered a little too late to run through his mental homework to stop precisely such a train of thought.

There was a tie in the end, between the death metal band South of Satan and singer-songwriter Maisie Hawkins. It was too awkward.

'Two winners then,' Sidney suggested. 'We can't reasonably compare the two. Can we?'

Charlotte sighed in relief. 'Good idea.' 

Tom announced the result with aplomb and then… That was it. Nobody gave the judges a second thought once the judgement was made. Jason bounced away in search of girls, leaving Sidney alone with Charlotte Hayward for the first time since – since.

'Charlotte –'

'Thank you for doing this. I know you didn't want to.' Then, she was gone, and it was like she took everything with her.

He was not able to go in search of her, for several of the musicians had words for him. Some grateful for his thoughts, others demanding his attention while they listed how he was wrong.

'...I just think you don't get it, old man!'

'Call me names if you like,' Sidney bristled. 'But the fact remains that your playing is a mess. If you're going to be a mess, go for it. But if you're going to be precise, you have to work at it. Be the Sex Pistols and just make a racket if you like... but most of those bands you so admire were doing far more work than you think. All or nothing at all. That's the point.'

The lad was momentarily stunned into silence and this moment was enough for Sidney to make his escape to the green room where he'd left his jacket and possibly his dignity.

Charlotte was there, typing furiously on her phone.

'Sorry,' he said. 'Just came to retrieve my jacket.'

'OK.'

He was obliged to reach around her to grab it and was treated to the light scent of whatever perfume it was she'd put on. He did not, to his dismay, recognise it.

'Charlotte?'

'Yes?'

'Are you... well?'

'Yes.'

'Mary said you've been away-'

'Yeah?'

'Since everything... I just wanted to make sure you're OK.'

'I'm all right.'

'You didn't... I mean, I didn't drive you away-'

Charlotte _laughed_, and he knew it was at his expense. 'You're an arrogant dick, you really are. My life doesn't revolve around you. It didn't fall apart. I went home to see my family, who I love.'

'Right. Sorry.'

'Stop saying sorry and just stop being a dick.'

'I'm trying to.'

'Good!' She put her phone away and looked at him for the first time. 'Whatever you do, Sidney, I hope you're happy and fulfilled.'

'I'm seeing a psychotherapist,' he blurted in much the same way Henry would blurt out random facts about his life. 'I just... yeah, that's a thing that's happening.'

'Is it helpful so far?'

'Yes.'

'Good.'

'I am...' he cleared his throat. 'I'm increasingly of the opinion that I was a terrible match for you and that I would've caused you more harm than good in the long run. So... while I'm very sorry for what happened, it's probably for the best. You deserve better.'

'You're in the guilt and pity section of your treatment, eh?'

'What?'

'The stage where you see all your weaknesses and all the things you've done wrong and how they harm people, but you haven't reached the full put yourself back together part yet. I remember sending a lot of apology emails to people. You'll be all right. Give it time.'

'I am sorry, though.'

'I know you are. I believe you. It isn't about deserving, Sidney. It's about treating each other with respect and kindness and honesty. And you didn't do that.'

'I know.'

'You derailed everything because of someone who... never mind.'

'It wasn't just that. I'm starting to realise there were a lot of things... it was just easier to blame it all on that.'

'I could've told you that.'

'And saved me a small fortune in therapist bills, no doubt.'

'Nah, you wouldn't have listened to me.'

'I suppose not.' He cleared his throat. 'So where do we go from here?'

'I'm driving back now for my dad's birthday party tomorrow.'

'Ah.'

'Safe travels home, Sidney.'

'Staying here. Sunday lunch with the family tomorrow.'

'Ah, nice.'

Awkward, awkward silence. 'You haven't left Sanditon forever, have you?'

'No, not forever.'

'Good. Good. It needs you.'

'I'm aware.'

'Good. Good. Well... I won't keep you.'

'OK.'

'Will you be OK driving home so late?'

'Are you my dad, Parker?'

'No, I just-'

'It's an entire twenty minutes this time of night. I'll be fine.'

'OK. Will you let Mary know you made it-'

'Parker.'

'Sorry. I... I won't apologise for wanting you to be safe.'

'Fine.'

'I see the cinema is coming along nicely.'

'I haven't seen it for a few weeks. Tom took that part over.'

'Mary said.'

'At least this way he's not trying to do my job for me.'

'No.'

'Milo said Eliza withdrew from the scheme.'

'Yeah.'

'I'm not sad about that.'

'Nor am I.' He sighed. 'She was after me to get to him.'

'I could've told you that.' She paused. 'I think I might have told you that.'

'Probably. You're cleverer than I am.'

'Therapist not telling you about negative self-talk?'

'Yeah, but it's early days. How are _ your _ self-esteem issues coming along?'

'I'm more in maintenance and mitigation these days.'

'I didn't mean- It was a joke.'

'I know. I'm going now.'

'Of course. Nice to- no, sorry.'

'I know what you meant.' She sighed. 'Don't stay away on my account. I can survive being in the same room as you without wilting like a flower.'

'I can see that. Not so sure about me, though.'

'You'll survive.'

She left then, and Sidney felt adrift once more, but at least he had seen her. At least he had not - as far as he could tell - made it worse. Which might be a first.

*


	44. Buffy Season 3 Episode 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the comments so far - I really do appreciate that people are reading and enjoying this.
> 
> The world is still utterly bonkers. No gym and no coffee shops is messing with my routine more even than I thought it might.
> 
> And a lot of people don't seem to know what 2m actually is. Le sigh.
> 
> Anyway, here's a new chapter that I hope you'll enjoy - might also answer some of the questions you've had. Others... may be answered soon.

Charlotte drove her mother's old school 1978 Mini Cooper back to Willingden with her heart beating in 6/8 time. Her parents, on farm-time, were long abed, so they did not witness her remaining in the car for several long minutes after parking, staring at nothing. She remembered to text Mary to confirm her safe return, then_ sat_.

She had at least prior knowledge that Sidney would be there; he had not known she would be, and the look of shock mingled with hope on his face was too much to think about. The panicked phone call from Tom 90 minutes before showtime hadn't given her any time to think about forewarning anyone, let alone Sidney Parker.

He looked tired. Tired and sad. Last time Charlotte saw eyes that heartbreaking, Valentino was making faces in _Blood and Sand_. 

It was too cold to sit in a glorified tin can on wheels - soon she was in the kitchen waiting for the kettle to boil. Her target was one of her mother's Options hot chocolates - there weren't any mint-choc left, so she'd make do with salted caramel. First world problems indeed...

So, Sidney was in therapy - he had surely said this to appeal to her for some reason. For forgiveness, perhaps?

For weeks, Charlotte had little to do but think of all the reasons why she should just move on. Either: move on and try to be happy without Sidney, or move on and be happy _ with _ Sidney. Round and round and round and round she'd gone without finding a satisfactory answer for herself... and after an evening sat about a metre away from him, she was no closer.

Commandeering Nicky's favourite West Ham mug while he wasn't there to complain, she poured hot water over twice the recommended amount of chocolate.

Neither option was comfortable. One was the surrender of future happiness; the other felt like a surrender of something even more profound.

But if he were _trying- _If he cared enough about her to _try_. If it were even about her. It probably wasn't about her. What an arrogant thought. He was just trying to move past all his own significant issues. It didn't follow he was improving himself for _her-_

'Charlotte?' The big light flicked on and made her eyes ache. 'Bloody hell, Charlotte!'

Her dad was at her side in a flash. 'What's the matter?'

She blinked. 'Nothing.'

'Charlotte, you're in the kitchen at two o'clock in the morning crying like a baby.'

'What?' God, she hadn't even noticed she was crying. How long had she been there for it to be two o'clock? Her hot chocolate was cold and almost untouched.

Her dad wrapped her in a warm, comforting hug. 'Whatever's the matter?'

'Doesn't matter.'

'Course it does.' He paused. 'Is it whatever Stew alluded to earlier?'

'I don't know what he alluded to.'

'Heartache.'

'He said he wouldn't say- What a git.'

'He's worried about you. Do you... you don't have to tell me anything, Charlotte. You can talk to Stew. But... Charlotte, we _are_ here for you, sweetheart.'

'I know.' She did know. Her parents would storm castles for her. It didn't mean she could bear to burden them with her petty troubles when they had an ancient estate to keep alive. When they had Alison and Nicky to worry about. 'I do know. But-'

'Yeah.' Mr Heywood sighed. 'Well... if it's about some _boy_, the least the little scrote can do is come and introduce himself. And- well, same if it's about some _girl_.'

She laughed a little at his attempt to be right-on. 'Thank you.'

'How did the event go in the end? Your mother mentioned something about a judge-'

'It all worked out. I just... I just-' She couldn't do it.

'All right, love.' Mr Heywood planted a kiss to the top of her head. 'You tell me in your own good time. In the meantime, that chocolatey crap is like crack to your mother so don't waste any more of it, or it'll be _me_ that has hell to pay.'

She smiled. 'Sorry. I'll get some more.'

'Ah, it's fine. What's she going to do, send you to your room? Get some sleep, Charlotte.'

'Sorry to wake you.'

'I was already awake.'

'Why?'

'Vineyard owner in Napa Valley running a webinar. I'm trying to see if we'd be better going in with Stew on the higher slopes rather than carrying on-'

'Well, get back to it then!'

'Aye-aye!' He saluted sharply, smiled and disappeared off.

Her father had resisted converting any part of the farm to vines, even if the loamy soil on the high ground was likely perfect. He was a farmer, not a wine-maker, he said time and again.

If he was staying up to watch Californians talk about wine-making, then it was unquestionably serious.

Her own concerns were nothing to that. Better he didn't worry about her nonsense.

And it was nonsense, wasn't it?

Her phone buzzed.

** Sidney Parker: **Good. 

What? Why the fuck was Sidney messaging her late at night?

Oh _fuck_. Charlotte hadn't messaged Mary to say she got home safely - she'd sent it to Sidney. Fuckity bollocks. Of all the things!

She tramped up the stairs to her room - her old room - and tossed her phone onto her bed, face aflame with embarrassment. There wasn't even drunkenness to blame it on-

Oh. She suddenly realised: Sidney had been stone-cold sober the entire night. Somehow, that felt even more immense than his being in therapy.

No matter what happened, at least he was in earnest about caring for himself. That was reassuring enough for her to find sleep far sooner and easier than expected.

Even if it wasn't about _her_, she was glad it was happening at all.

*

Uncle Stew was at the kitchen table reading the Sunday papers when Charlotte arrived downstairs the next morning. This was no surprise - her father had no doubt contacted him.

'Wotcha, Skips.'

'For a busy farmer, you never seem to do any work.'

'Work is for wimps. I put the money in your account for Sarah.'

'Really, you didn't-'

'I did it, though. Humour me. If you won't talk to me or your dad, at least talk to her. But you can also talk to me.'

'I saw him.'

'How was it?'

'Weird. Fine. I thought it was fine... I don't think I was fine.'

'No.'

'I should go home. To Sanditon. I do want to be at home, and if he's there, then I shall just have to get used to it.'

'There's that British stiff-upper-lip take-no-prisoners repression that served the Empire so well.'

'Uncle Stew?'

'Yup?'

'Sod off.'

He chuckled. 'Can't. Waiting for his nibs to come back so I can take him to the vineyard. Then back in time for cake.'

'Is he really going to plant vines?'

'It's more profitable acreage these days.'

'But-'

'What?'

'He didn't want to.'

'Yeah, well. The only farmers making any money these days are Michael Eavis and James fucking Dyson.'

'Don't let Daddy hear you call Dyson a farmer.'

'Quite.'

'Don't suppose we could run a musical festival?' she mused. 'No... the landscape's all wrong for it.'

'He'd never let his precious fields get ripped up by all those oiks.'

'True.'

t

'When are you going home, then?'

She sighed and considered this. 'After his birthday party. I've been gone quite long enough.'

'As you like, Skips. It's been nice having you back for a while.'

'Yeah.'

'What are you going to do?'

She understood he meant about Sidney. 'Honest answer, Uncle Stew?'

'Yeah.'

'Not a fucking clue.'

*

Charlotte arrived back in Sanditon on Sunday evening after all the shops were shut. Her father's birthday had been a quiet, small affair. Alison sent apologies - engineering works on the Edinburgh-London line made it impossible apparently; Nicky Skyped with Mr Heywood when the UK and Australia were both awake and useful.

He'd been disappointed, she could tell. She almost didn't leave after the cake was cut and eaten, but it had been Mr Heywood who almost pushed her into his car to drive her down to Sanditon.

They were a quiet pair on the journey - she dearly wished to ask him questions about the farm and future and his feelings, but she knew it would only hurt for him to answer, so she did not.

He pulled in at the edge of Sanditon proper - at her request - to let her walk the rest of the way and save him getting stuck in the one-way system.

'Speak to you soon, Dad.'

'Indeed. Now sod off, Charlotte. Sort out whatever's ailing you. And then send him to _me_. I shall want a word with whoever's left you so out of sorts.'

'Dad...'

'I'm joking! I mean, I'm really not joking, but I am joking.'

'That makes no sense.'

'Did Stew sort you out with-'

'Yes. I've emailed her to get an appointment sorted out.'

'OK. Good. Well. Thanks for coming home a while. It was nice to have you back.'

'It was nice to be back.' This was mostly true. 'Drive home safe.'

'Will do!' He gave her a cheery wave and drove away without fanfare.

She took a deep breath of salt sea air and felt, to her immense relief, happy to back. The walk back to the terrace was quick enough, and soon she was installed on her own sofa watching her own TV with her own blanket wrapped around her.

It was good to be home. Nobody - not Karen Shelley, not agricultural economic challenges, not Sidney Parker - could change that.

*

That Monday, Charlotte went to Spin class then walked back to town to work from the Coffee Cabin. She owed Mary a visit if nothing else.

Mary was visibly pleased to see her. 'Charlotte, you're back!'

'Yeah. Everyone well?'

'Oh, yes, everyone's absolutely fine. Arthur got a job at Universal!'

'He said! I'm so glad - although he'll be in London during the week now.'

'Yeah. The office is in Kings Cross, he said. But I'm so relieved. He needed to get out of this town, at least for a while.'

'I know the feeling.'

'Yes, well-'

'No! I meant - sorry! - I meant it about Willingden.'

'Did you have a good visit home?'

'Yes. And it reminded me of all the reasons I left.'

'I thought... I feared...'

'Sanditon is my home. No matter what.'

Mary smiled and slid a fresh gingerbread latte across the counter. 'The big table is all yours, lovely.'

Charlotte grinned. 'Awesome!'

It wasn't quite as enjoyable to sit at the big table on her own as it had to share it with Sidney... she swallowed the lump that formed in her throat and strove to get on with things.

Her phone buzzed.

** Sidney Parker: **I don't think you meant to send that message to me, did you? Anyway, I'm glad you made it back to the sticks safely.

She scoffed.

** Me: **The sticks? Because Sanditon is Metropolis?

Charlotte hit send before she even thought about what she was doing. His answer was almost instant.

** Sidney Parker: **Compared to Willingden, it might as well be. When are they having the annual burning of the wicker man?  
**Me: **That's Scotland, dickhead.  
**Sidney Parker: **I maintain the metaphor about remote communities cut off from meaningful civilisation holds.  
**Me: **You would.

She exhaled slowly, fighting the smile spreading across her face. Bickering with Sidney Parker was immensely satisfying.

** Sidney Parker: **Horrorfest at the cinema. Starting with the Wicker Man.  
**Me:** More specific. Christopher Lee horror fest.  
**Sidney Parker: **Put it on the list.  
**Me: **I'm not saying the list is long, but if we get everything we want, we're fully programmed until 2034.  
**Sidney Parker: **And longer if you'd just accept that we should show the Bond movies in order.  
**Me: **Nobody is going to pay to watch Roger Moore's leisure suit when they can watch those for free every Easter and Christmas holidays.  
**Sidney Parker: **Spoilsport.  
**Me: **Prove me wrong.

She set her phone aside to keep working. Her editing done, she turned to Sanditon stuff. The un-retired projectionist was coming to meet her and James tomorrow - somehow she felt incredibly nervous because men like him were not easy to find. It was not a job interview for him but an audition for her and the cinema itself.

There was a lightness in her heart that it took a moment to identify. It wasn't just returning home; it wasn't just the gingerbread latte.

She'd been right before, it seemed: she did like having Sidney Parker as her friend.

Oh, there was that heaviness again.

A line from_ Buffy_, of all things, leapt to the forefront of her mind from the dark corner it'd lurked in for years:

_ You're not friends; you'll never be friends_. 

Well, at least Sidney wasn't a cursed vampire. That was something.

Charlotte reached for her phone again. Instead of sending a message, she dove into her contacts and changed _Sidney Parker_ to simply, _Parker_.

_ Parker_ was her friend. _Parker_ was a safe enough bet, not a vampire and not the dude who smashed her heart into pieces because he couldn't let go of the past.

It was something.

Her phone buzzed again.

** Parker: **New idea. Christopher Lee fest that ends with Dracula and segues into the next fest: Vampires! Lost Boys! Dead and Loving It! Only Lovers Left Alive! Interview With. And Buffy. Gotta have Buffy.

She choked on her latte. 

** Parker: **Not the film. Best episodes of the show. Hush. Grad Day. Lovers Walk. 

It seemed pretty even odds whether the universe loved or hated her at the moment.

*


	45. Banter By WhatsApp, Feminism: model's own

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter, another apology that it took longer than intended. 
> 
> I know a lot of folks are finding that they have time to kill... this has not been my experience, and one of my coping mechanisms is apparently to sleep as much as I possibly can. A smashing headache on Friday night meant I didn't even get up until after 3 pm on Saturday. I'm not loving this, to be honest, but I've yet to find the key to changing it.
> 
> So, this is a short bit but I hope I can get to do some more tomorrow. Although I just realised it's quarter past five in the morning so I must mean 'today'.
> 
> Most of all: be well, good people.

Sidney put his phone down on his desk with trembling hands, his heart pounding halfway out of his chest.

He had weighed up the pros and cons of following up on her message from the moment he received it.

It had so obviously been a mistake on Saturday night: _ SP asked me to tell you I got home safe. I did. See you soon. Love C. _

He'd fired off a quick "good" before considering the implications and spent the rest of his terrible night's sleep hoping she wouldn't even notice who sent the message.

She hadn't blocked him, though. That felt like hope, huddled with him under the thin summer bedding of Trafalgar House's guest bed.

All Sunday long, the message settled in his subconscious, demanding he _do something about it_.

'Are you all right, Sidney?' Tom asked, partway through Sunday lunch. 'You're dreadfully quiet.'

It must have been striking if Tom had noticed. Mary evidently _had _seen and - good, kind soul she was - said nothing.

'Tired is all. Last night was harder work than I thought it would be.'

This was all Tom needed to launch into a detailed, not particularly exciting recap of the night from his own particular perspective. Sidney did his best to listen, thoughts from therapy foremost in his mind. 

'...of course, it was a shame Melanie couldn't come, but Charlotte sorted all that out-'

'Why _ did _ Charlotte sort all that out?' Sidney interrupted. 'Couldn't you?'

'Oh, she was happy to-'

'Are you sure about that?' Sidney pressed, glancing at Mary, who had yet to give him the "you're going too far" headshake. 'You dragged her back from Willingden to do what, exactly? You just said inviting the DJ bloke was your idea. And not a very good one.'

'Now hang on!' Tom protested in his usual hurt way. 'I thought it was a good idea and-'

'You'd have had a panel full of white dudes, Tom! You can't- you can't _do _that! Can you imagine the response? It's 2019, not 1819.'

'Yes, but it was all sorted-'

'Sorted because you made Charlotte come and fix your problems. Which, I have to say, I've noticed you do a _lot _without bothering to give her any credit. And then you try and take her meaningful work away from her-'

'I've already said sorry about that! Do you want me to flagellate myself in public, Sidney? Is it too much to want to be involved in my own bloody town?'

Their dad saying "bloody" made the children, who had not been listening, giggle, which in turn made Sidney grin at them.

'I'm not just talking about that,' Sidney replied and realised he really meant it. 'Ever since I've- it's been evident that Charlotte picks up a lot of slack for you and you don't even seem to _notice_, much less care or show gratitude. All those entire mornings, afternoons or days with the children. She took them off your hands at Thorpe Park for ages. She does all the accounting for the regeneration project - don't tell me she doesn't, Tom - and now she's running the cinema while also trying to do her full-time job.'

'She doesn't have to do any of that!' 

'No, but you could at least be fu- grateful. Actually show her you care about her as a human being and not just a maid of all work.'

He was aware, quite keenly, that he was addressing himself as much as anyone. 'Does anyone actually give a monkey's about Charlotte other than what she can do for them?'

'Sidney,' Mary spoke softly. 'That's not fair, and you know it.'

Yet, her brow was a little furrowed - there was a guilty conscience nudging her.

'I love Charlotte,' Jenny said. 'She's the best.'

'What do you like the most?'

'She always listens to me. Not like proper grown-ups, who are just pretending.' Jenny frowned. 'I miss her.'

'So do we,' Mary said. 'She'll be home very soon.'

Sidney pushed his chair away from the table and beckoned to her. She was not _quite _at the point of being too old to sit with him, and he folded her into a hug. 'I miss her too.'

'What do you like most about Charlotte, Uncle Sidney?'

Oh, good grief. The answers he _could _give... the feel of her skin against his fingertips, or on his lips; the way she _gasped _as they-

Jenny was gazing up at him, waiting for an answer.

There were so many answers he could give, but there was one above all the others, in actual fact.

'She makes me laugh,' he told her. 'But, now's not the time for being sad, is it? Mummy says she'll be back soon and I'm sure she will. So... are you finished with your dinner, Jenny Wren?'

He hadn't stayed long after that. Getting back to London for work was always a good excuse, after all, and every hour in Sanditon raised the risk of running into Charlotte upon her return. 

Back in London, he shared a quiet, simple supper with Arthur, who was about to start his second week at Universal Music. The house was otherwise quiet - Sidney could not help thinking of the brief moment it was full of noise from Gigi, Bella and Charlotte. 

He slept fitfully, played video games when he couldn't sleep and tried to continue.

The possibilities of that bloody message continued to bother him. What could he do that was not likely to cause more harm than _not _replying?

Perhaps she hadn't realised she'd messaged the wrong person. Maybe she was worried about it. She needed, surely, to know that he was OK with it?

While supposedly compiling the weekly revenue report, Sidney sat at his desk on Monday morning and worked on composing a response.

'Sidney, you've been sat staring at your phone for ages,' Ellie said, bringing in the post. 'You OK?'

'I will be. Just.. yeah. What's all this?'

'These were marked private and confidential, so I didn't open 'em.'

'I'll look at them shortly. What's a better word for the arse end of nowhere?'

'What?'

'Never mind.'

'The Sticks. That's a bit less... judgey?'

'Thanks.'

'Big boss man wants that report by 11, you know.'

'I know...' Sidney typed, took a breath and hit send. 'OK. Done. Now... did you need something, Ellie?'

She rolled her eyes at him and went back to her own desk.

*

The light banter via WhatsApp left Sidney grinning like a dork for much of the rest of the day. He let her dictate when it drifted off, and he was determined to let her decide whether to pick up the thread again. He hoped she would - hoped with more than he could admit - but wouldn't be the kind of pushy arsehole that had kept her from even trying to engage in romance for her whole life.

He knew, because he had listened, what Charlotte loathed about the patriarchy and he was determined not to do those things. Did that make him as bad as anyone else, for he was basically doing it to get back into her good books?

No, he wasn't. He was doing it because it was the right thing to do. He'd be in whatever metaphorical book she decided he belonged in and that was that. Sidney Parker was no Nice Guy(TM), after all.

Wasn't he? Therapy had him questioning everything he did, thought and felt. Everything was worthy of interrogation, and it was bloody exhausting.

On Tuesday, he woke up to find a set of WhatsApp messages from Actual Charlotte Actual Heywood:

** She: ** James is down from Edinburgh. New iron dome arrives tomorrow and fitted this week. Glazing next week. EEEEK.  
** She: ** I'll send pics. If you like.  
** She: ** And the projectionist dude is coming tomorrow. It's all happening.

For a moment, he felt a twinge of something unkind towards James Stringer. James Stringer, who had not disappointed Charlotte, who found it effortless to be friendly and kind and charming to all, who was talented and could _create. _

He was, in short, everything Sidney was not and wished, deep down, that he could be.

What good was _he _compared to James Stringer?

His new mental programming kicked in a little late but presented itself just the same.

Investment bankers weren't renowned as sources of benevolence or good works in the world... but he did his best to put more good into the world than bad. He did his best.

What, though, if his best wasn't good _enough_? Oh, 'twas not James Stringer Sidney had a problem with, but himself. Of course.

Eventually, once he'd exhaustingly worked his way through all that, he twigged: _Charlotte had sent him messages. _Messages that really ought to get a response.

** Me: **Sounds like all is progressing well.

Thirty seconds later, he could kick himself. Was he replying to a work email or messaging with a friend? 

** Me: **All a bit eek, I agree.  
** She: **Have you ever used the word 'eek' before in your entire life?  
** Me: **I don't think so.  
** She: **thank you for humouring me.

He paused a moment.

** Me: **I'm not humouring you. You worked really fucking hard to get it all even this far. I might not be directly involved, but I see the emails. And why the fuck ARE you working at ten pm anyway?  
** She: **because that's when I can. Lots going on with the job that actually pays me.

Another pause. He knew she was doing this on the side, but-

** Me: **Are you telling me that one of the richest men on the planet is funding this and you're not getting fucking paid?

No answer for some time. He could picture the way she was frowning and biting her lip as she considered the best answer.

** She: **The regeneration vehicle is a not-for-profit. I can't be taking money out of that for, what? It's volunteer stuff.  
** Me: **are you kidding? Of course you can. I bet you anything that everyone else is getting paid.

Silence again.

** Me: **I'll talk to Tom.  
** She: **You will not. Think how that looks.  
** Me: **I don't care what it looks like, I care what it is.  
** She: **Parker, don't.  
** Me: **Heywood, don't.

No response. He would not say anything if she told him not to, of course... but there were other options. It was utterly ludicrous that she wasn't paid - no doubt Tom and Stringer and everyone else was getting paid.

What was Charlotte's need to _help _about? A martyr complex, perhaps?

Sidney would have to find a way to sort this out without being seen to sort it out.

Ah, he remembered what he was good at now: persuading people. It seemed a trip to Sanditon would be required soon.


	46. Guilty consciences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your patience, folks. I hope you're all in good health and all those good things.
> 
> It's 2am precisely and I'll fix any typos or whatever when I next can - mostly I just wanted to get this *done* so we can all move on with our lives.
> 
> But indeed, the chapter is done. I hope you enjoy it!

The first stage of Sidney's plan regarding Charlotte's pay was actually something he'd meant to do anyway.

** From: ** Sidney.Parker@SellersMilligan.com  
** To: ** TParker@Sanditon.com charlotte.heywood@Sanditon.com;   
** Date ** : Wednesday, -- Sept 2019, 08:34  
** Subject: **Copies of Documents

Hello

Have been meaning to get to this for a while - please send over the latest copies of all financial documents, org chart and anything else you think I need to see.

If I can have them by tomorrow that would be good.

Thanks

Sidney

** From: **charlotte.heywood@Sanditon.com  
**To: **Sidney.Parker@SellersMilligan.com  
**CC: ** TParker@Sanditon.com   
**Date: ** Wednesday, -- Sept 2019, 08:44  
**Subject: **RE: Copies of Documents

Good morning,

I've given you access via your Sanditon.com login so you can have a look at whatever you need whenever you need it.

I also suspect you forgot your login details so I'll reset your password as well.

Let me know if there's anything else I can help with.

Kind regards,

Charlotte

** From: **Sidney.Parker@SellersMilligan.com  
**To: **charlotte.heywood@Sanditon.com;   
**Date ** : Wednesday, -- Sept 15--, 08:47  
**Subject: **RE: Copies of Documents

Thanks. And yes, I had.

SP.

** From: **TParker@Sanditon.com   
**To: **Sidney.Parker@SellersMilligan.com  
**Date**: Wednesday, -- Sept 2019, 12:02  
**Subject: **RE: Copies of Documents

Sidney!

Everything OK!?

T

** From: **Sidney.Parker@SellersMilligan.com  
**To: **TParker@Sanditon.com   
**Date**:Wednesday, -- Sept 2019, 12:12  
**Subject: **Copies of Documents

I've put off reviewing it all long enough. Will revert with questions.

It was not the most thrilling afternoon of Sidney's life, but the various documents that brought the Sanditon regeneration project into legal existence were in good order at least - Tom had no head for such things, but he did know how to engage the services of lawyers and accountants.

He would be remiss if he didn't review everything, so he did, but most of his interest lay in the accounting.

And _there _it was, in black and white. Tom Parker's salary was not as big as Sidney feared it might be (Tom was foolish but not avaricious), but he was still getting paid. James Stringer's consultancy fees were nothing like what Stringer could easily command for something commercial, but he was still getting paid.

Nothing for Charlotte Heywood, even though there was budget set aside for administrative resources. 

** Me: **We need to talk.  
**Tom (Parker): **what about?  
**Me: **why isn't Charlotte getting paid for her work?  
**Tom (Parker): **She has a job, you plank.  
**Me: ** For her work on Sanditon - don't be fucking disingenuous. She works for you, why isn't she getting _paid_?

There was a pause, presumably while Tom rationalised it all for himself to still be the good guy.

** Tom (Parker): **She volunteered.  
**Me: **When she was doing a bit of odd admin, maybe. She's doing a lot more.  
**Tom (Parker): **it never came up. i don't see her complaining.  
**Me: **Does she know how much you and Stringer get paid?  
**Tom (Parker): **That's not relevant.  
**Me: **Course it is. She's the only unpaid person on the entire team. That's terrible optics if nothing else. It's also ethically bullshit, and you fucking know it.

No reply.

** Me: **It's my job to make recommendations and keep an eye on the whole project for my investor. If I have to recommend that Charlotte be put on a retainer or given a salary directly by Milo, I will. But I'm not sure that's what you want, is it?

No reply.

** Tom (Parker): **She'll get slammed for tax, Sidney. Do you want that?  
**Me: **Do me a favour and go and stand in front of a mirror and have a stern word with yourself. Stop making excuses and do the right thing.

A pause.

** Me: **Sanditon isn't going to run out of money because you pay Charlotte fairly. You don't have to worry about that.  
**Tom (Parker): **You would say that. It's not your good name on the line.  
**Me: **It is LITERALLY my name on the line, you fucking idiot.   
**Tom (Parker): **You know what I mean. I'm not stingy, I swear. I just don't... we already had to put the pavilion back to next year.  
**Me: **The cinema's going to do so much more for Sanditon than that decrepit old shell. Just... have a think and come back to me with a proposal by CoP.

No reply. Sidney kept reading, reassured that things were not dire, although evidently, Milo's cinema funding was still by far the most significant investment. 

Lady Annabel hadn't put in nearly as much as she liked to suggest. Interesting...

No wonder Tom was nervous. And then, he saw it...

Oh fuck. Sidney couldn't get to his phone quickly enough; his fingers trembled and he asked Siri to dial instead.

'Hello-hello, little bro!'

'Tom.'

'What's occurring?'

'I'm looking through the accounts.'

'Yep!'

'Why the fuck did you stop paying landlord's insurance for the terraces two months ago?'

Silence.

'Well, now, Sidney. You don't understand-'

'Tom, are you a fucking idiot?'

'Don't talk to me like that! I'm the eldest, and you will speak to me with respect-'

'Fuck respect and chronology, Tom! What the fuck were you thinking?'

'We needed some economies-'

'You don't economise on insurance, you absolute fucknut! Get on the phone and renew it right fucking now.'

'Sidney-'

'Right now, or I will tell Milo to withdraw his entire investment before the end of the day, and I'll do the same. What the fuck?'

'Well, Lady Annabel had to downgrade-'

'We'll talk about that after you've finished speaking to the insurers. And I want you to forward all the confirmation emails before we talk again.' Sidney hung up.

Tom forwarded a set of emails from the insurers half an hour later, but he did not answer when Sidney called.

Fearing worse lurked in the accounts, Sidney started again and worked through each and every line. Mercifully, everything else was basically straight, although the non-cinema finances were not on the soundest footing. 

Other than his short-sighted decision to cut insurance, Tom had ploughed more of his own money into the scheme than Sidney thought - did Mary know?

But... he'd certainly seen worse prospects. Projects with inadequate funding, worse admin and barely a sliver of potential. Some of them had even _not _crashed and burned.

Was there, though, truly no money to pay Charlotte even a part-time salary?

Course there was. A fresh cup of tea rejuvenated his brain, and there it was, in a budget line:

Miscellaneous administrative and personnel fees.

And wouldn't you fucking know it, there was an amount budgeted that would easily cover a modest part-time salary. Nothing to write home about, but something.

Sidney took a screenshot and sent a final message to his brother. 

** Me: ** Tom, I suggest you proactively offer Charlotte the salary that's clearly always been intended for her. Before I accidentally mention it to her.

A moment.

** Tom: **Wouldn't she want to be talking to you for that?

It took everything Sidney had in his arsenal of experience dealing with Tom, his professional abilities and newfound therapy tools to stop him throwing his phone across the room and punching the glass door.

Sometimes, Tom spoke unthinkingly. Sometimes, Tom was just an arsehole because he was the eldest and had always been able to get away with it...

Sidney took a breath, drank some more tea and took a moment. _Then_, he replied.

** Me: **Don't take your guilty conscience out on me, Tom. Fix it.

Even if he wanted to waste more time on this, Ellie poked her head around the door to remind him of the weekly management team meeting, and he was obliged to put everything Sanditonian aside.

Babington was in the conference room when Sidney arrived, looking worn and weary inside and out.

'Babs? What's up?'

'Oh.' Babington sat up. 'Nothing much. Just a bit tired. You know how it is.'

'Yeah, sure. Well... want to hang out after work?'

'Can't. I mean, I'd love to but Esther and I...'

'What's going on, Babbers? If you don't want to tell me, you don't have to, but-'

'I want to,' Babington snapped. 'But I can't. In due course.'

'That's my line.'

'Yeah. Anyway, let's get this party started.'

Babington led the meeting this time and left as soon as he'd called it to a close, so Sidney had no further chance to dig.

Back in his office, messages awaited.

** She: ** you spoke to Tom, didn't you? He just offered me a part-time salary for the Sanditon work.  
**Crowe: **Back in town tomorrow. What fun is to be had?  
**She: ** thank you, but you really didn't have to.  
**Tom: **it is done. If sanditon fails for £15,000 I'll blame you.

Sidney ground his teeth. He replied to Tom first:

** Me: **If Sanditon fails for £15k spent on paying people for their work, it was always going to fail and you know it. Don't try and redirect your guilty conscience on me.  
**Me: **Or Charlotte.

To Charlotte:

** Me: ** I happened to get around to my review of the company records and noticed a couple of things that I raised accordingly. No big deal.

To Crowe:

**Me: **Fancy a trip to the coast?  
**Crowe: **Not fucking Sanditon again.  
**Crowe: **But yeah all right. You're driving.

With all that done, the rest of the week passed easily enough. Rooms at the Hall for himself and Crowe were booked, he got the car valeted so Crowe wouldn't moan about the lack of new car smell, and finally, it was Friday again.

The weather had definitely turned - this was no jolly summer's outing - but Sanditon Hall was still a luxurious welcome nestled amongst the woods.

Lady Annabel hallooed them from the stairs 'Ah, Sidney Parker! It's been a while. And your eminent scientist friend.'

'Lady A, kind of you to find rooms for us at short notice,' Sidney replied with a nod of greeting. He did not miss the way her expression froze - his working theory was taking shape.

'How's business been?'

She scowled. 'Things always slow down in September, Mr Parker.'

'Indeed. Well, Crowe and I had better get settled in before we head into town.'

'Busy evening, I'll bet.'

'Pub quiz.'

Crowe rolled his eyes. 'Thrilling.'

*

Charlotte hadn't been to the Denham Arms pub quiz for ages - and didn't particularly want to go today - but Stringer had wheedled an acceptance out of her.

It had been a weird week. First, Tom's bizarre and unsolicited (if not entirely unexpected) offer of pay for her Sanditon work had been an awkward conversation. Second, the cinema dome arrived: she'd watched from a nervous distance as it was installed, praying to any gods who might be listening that all would be well. Third, she'd met the projectionist Brian and wasn't sure she'd convinced him to work at the cinema.

She blamed it on her lack of experience with the Kurosawa oeuvre, but he was at least impressed with her tentative explorations of silent films.

'At least you're not a total numpty,' he'd said during their rather brief first meeting at the cinema. He had thoughts about the intended tech to be brought in but had been pleased with the suggestions she'd made.

'Charlotte! She's not listening, I told you.' 

She blinked as she came back to the here and now. 'What? Sorry.' 

Mary and James laughed, and he repeated his question: 'Want another drink?'

'Oh. No, I'm fine for now.'

'Are you all right?' Mary asked once James was out of the way at the bar. 'Especially since Sidney's coming-'

Charlotte's attention snapped to her friend. 'What?'

Mary blinked. 'I thought you knew-'

'No, I didn't.'

'Oh, I'm sorry-'

'It doesn't matter. I mean-' She stopped - there was the man himself, presence rendered by mere mention. 'Whatever.'

Sidney's gaze fixed on her for a moment before shifting mercifully away. He and Crowe took a table near the back of the room.

'Are they here all weekend?' Charlotte asked.

Mary nodded. 'I believe so. Sidney said he had business and Crowe... I don't know.'

'OK.'

'If you want to go-'

'No, I'll stay. QuizTeam Aguilera needs me.'

'That we do! I don't know what's keeping Tom.'

'He said he had paperwork to do. He'll be along soon.'

Tom wasn't there in time for the quiz to start, but Mary, James & Charlotte did their best. As in their previous goes-round, QuizTeam Aguilera and University Challenged were closely matched. Still, without Tom for football or Babington for racing and cricket, neither team could beat the combined general knowledge skills of The Arch-oles, a group who'd come up from Eastbourne to take part. The winners were dismayed - loudly - that the prize did not come in the form of cash.

'Look,' Chas said, trying to be reasonable with them. 'We've never advertised cash prizes because we've never had cash prizes. Not least because they draw in groups of wankers like you.'

'A box of chocolates? Who do you think we are, twelve-year-old girls?'

'I'd rather play against twelve-year-old girls than tossers like you.'

The group turned to find Sidney Parker, arms crossed and staring them down. It was not, Charlotte was sure, that they were _intimidated _by him, but that they were curiously cautious all of a sudden.

'I can't imagine why you're being so obnoxious towards my friend,' Sidney continued. 'After he's worked very hard to put on a most enjoyable quiz. If you'd like to give up your prize to the second-place team, I'm sure they'll be happy to accept.'

'I didn't say that!' blustered the leader of the group.

'May I suggest, with all due respect, that you fuck off back to Bexhill or whatever rock you live under?'

This was not a lot of respect, Charlotte thought, but about as much as they were due. 

'Bexhill? How dare you! We're from Eastbourne!'

'So fuck off that bit further then. Good evening to you.' Sidney stepped closer and thus inspired the gents to suddenly remember all the reasons why they needed to get home early. 

In so doing, they forgot the chocolates of victory, which Sidney plucked from Chas' hands and plonked them down on QuizTeam Aguilera's table. 

'Sidney, you really oughtn't provoke people like that,' Mary said, brows furrowed. 'Someone will hit back one day.'

'They were wankers,' he said. 'I haven't been through enough therapy to ignore that yet. You OK, Chas?'

'I've had worse from the under eighteens but... thanks, Sidney.'

'Well played, anyway,' Sidney finally looked at Charlotte, then at James. 'Cinema's looking rather grand.'

James grinned and launched into an in-depth report to Sidney that meant the latter really had no choice but to sit down and listen.

He was close enough that Charlotte could feel the warmth radiating off him. Crowe stumbled past on his way to the bar, but she barely managed to say hello.

Sidney hadn't been so close since it all happened. Dreams she'd been having, and had been working so hard to ignore, flooded back into her immediate thoughts, leaving her discombobulated.

'It all sounds fantastic,' Sidney replied to James. 'You've all worked so hard.'

'Not just me,' James said. 'Charlotte too.'

'Of course. There's no project at all without Heywood.'

'You're exaggerating.'

'No, I'm not.' 

Awkwardness then, amongst everyone at the table. Sidney cleared his throat, bid them all a goodnight and yanked Crowe away from the bar to leave.

'Well, that was weird,' Charlotte said. 'He didn't steal our chocolates this time.'

It was a weak joke, but her friends loved her, so they laughed.

'Are you all right?' James asked. 'Need me to kick his arse?'

'No, it's all fine.'

'Good because I don't fancy my chances.'

'I'd better go home,' she said. 'Spin first thing. A lovely time as always, and thanks to James, for making me come out this evening.'

'Always, Charlotte.'

'Night, Charlotte. Sunday lunch?'

'Maybe.' 

She left swiftly and regretted it, for Sidney and Crowe were still close by. The latter was drunk, of course, and Sidney had propped him up on the sea wall while they presumably waited for a cab.

Charlotte managed a tiny wave of acknowledgement to them before rushing to the terrace as soon as she could.

At home, she let out the breath she felt she'd been holding all night. If she'd convinced herself she was unmoved by or uninterested in Sidney Parker now, an evening barely even spent in his company had wholly undone the facade.

Bugger.


	47. Until Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's this? Another longer-than-intended gap between chapters? Blame the lockdown. Instead of writing, I've been trying to shoehorn activity into my free time, which has been easier said than done.
> 
> On the other hand, I now know what it feels like to walk 20km in one go - it's awesome but time-consuming.
> 
> Thanks for all the comments so far - as always, I really appreciate that you're reading at all so taking the time to comment too is really super.
> 
> Be well, be safe and I'll be back with the next bit as soon as I can. How soon that is? No idea...

For some time, Charlotte had been wondering about the financial health of Sanditon Hall. The health club always seemed reasonably busy - there were enough locals who were willing to pay their prices to avoid the municipal leisure centre - but everything else always seemed eerily quiet.

She always had her choice of appointments for a sports massage or floatation tanks. The cafe was quite busy during the weekend but mostly... not. The early flurries of interest seemed to have waned - but perhaps there were things in the background that left this as less dire situation than she thought.

Charlotte wasn't especially concerned about the hotel/health club business in its own right, but Lady Annabel was one of Sanditon's most significant investors, so if her other business failed, what would happen to the regeneration scheme?

She made a mental note to look into other forms of funding - the National Lottery, local and national government and whatever else she hadn't thought of yet - as she arrived for Spin.

The class was full as usual, and Charlotte left feeling energised and awake - and in need of a shower. She strode from the spin studio to the ladies' changing rooms and was ready quickly enough.

As was often her habit, she'd brought her computer so she could work at the cafe with a fancy tea at hand and a view of the lake in sight. Once she was squeaky clean again, she headed upstairs and almost crashed into-

'Crowe!'

He blinked a couple of times, and she was faintly aware that he was trying to remember exactly who she was. He got there after a moment: 'Charlotte Heywood. How are you?'

'I'm OK. How are _you_? I didn't think early mornings were your thing.'

'They aren't. Parker booked me one of those tank things, so...'

'It's awesome.'

'It better be.' Crowe sighed. 'See you around, then.'

Charlotte was granted a full five minutes' uninterrupted time: long enough to start up her laptop, open Outlook and the latest manuscript to work on.

'Heywood.'

She didn't look up from her screen. 'I'm busy, Parker.'

A pause. 'Of course. Sorry. Want more tea?'

'If you're getting it.'

'I am.' In her peripheral vision, Charlotte watched Sidney grab her teapot. 'More of the same?'

'Thank you.'

In the few minutes it took Sidney to procure and return with tea, Charlotte saved her work and resigned herself to leaving it until later.

'I'm interrupting-'

'I was already interrupted,' she half-lied. 'Thank you for my tea. And I suspect for the payslip I'll get at the end of the month.'

'May I sit?'

'Yeah.'

Sidney did so, setting his tea tray down with a clatter of metal and china. As ever, he put his feet up on the wall and leaned back. 'I should've done all my due diligence ages ago. I let it slide because... well... because it's my brother. I would've identified the issues much earlier in any other situation.'

'Issues? How many?'

'Nothing that isn't sorted now. Did you... did you know about the insurance?'

She frowned. 'Tom said he sorted it out ages ago.'

'It's sorted now, but... not before, clearly.'

'I asked him to renew when the reminders came in... did he forget?'

Sidney's scowl almost rent his face in two. 'Forget is a charitable view.'

'Bloody hell. I- I didn't know. I trusted that he'd sort it out.'

'I think...' Sidney cleared his throat and his gaze darted around. 'I think we might be best served giving Tom very little benefit of the doubt.'

'Evidently.' Charlotte sipped at her tea - sweet and fragrant and still much too hot. 'Are you... are you well?'

He shrugged, much too casually. 'I'm all right. Busy, of course.'

'Of course.'

'Like you, I have a real job.'

'Gotta serve the mighty Mammon, eh?'

'Something like that.'

'Have you heard from Gigi recently?' she asked, determined to find safe common ground.

'I get random WhatsApp messages, the frequency of which depends entirely on how bored she is.'

'Same. Did she tell you about the project she's working on?'

'Which one?'

'For English Literature.'

'Ah, yeah.' he chuckled fondly. 'Decolonising the Literary Canon. Good girl.'

'She's starting with Jane Eyre and Wide Sargasso Sea, quite naturally. We talked about it the other day. She has so many good ideas.'

Sidney sat up, back straight and smile small, but unquestionably proud. 'She does. For her GCSE History, she wrote a full-on paper dismantling the arguments that slavery was necessary for the success of the British Empire's trade in the 18th century. Richie made us all read it. It really was good.'

'I'm going to go and see her at half term. If you don't mind, I mean.'

'Why would I mind? You're her friend. I'm not the boss of her.'

'But you _are _her guardian.'

'Yeah, and I know a good friendship when I see one. I'd come, but I'm in Frankfurt that week. Apparently, I have a job to do. Mammon, you understand.'

A pause while they both sipped tea.

'Thank you,' she said, unable to skirt around the pay issue a moment longer. 'I don't know what you said to Tom about me being paid. But thank you. It helps.'

'Everyone should be paid for the work they do.'

'Yeah. I feel stupid for not asking before-'

'I'm sure it made sense in context.'

'Yeah, but-'

'It's sorted now.' Sidney shook his head a moment. 'I saw the cinema.'

Charlotte brightened, forgetting anything else. She almost certainly went into much more detail about the dome and the fitting thereof than anyone would want to hear, but Sidney listened, asking a few questions here and there.

Next thing, it was nearly eleven, and her tea was cold. 'Sorry!'

'Don't be sorry. I'm glad to hear about it. I'm not usually this closely involved in an investment. Maybe- I mean, perhaps you could-'

'What?'

'Show me? The cinema. I haven't seen it since... well, just _since_.'

Charlotte's heart dropped to the pit of her stomach, and she was not at all sure if it was a good or a bad feeling. 'Yeah. If you want. Have to be later after the crew are finished. And hey, James is home so he can talk you through the technical stuff!'

He scowled for a fraction of a second, and then he was back. 'Yeah, that'd be brilliant.'

She dearly wanted to tease him but instinctively knew to steer around it for now. 'Shall I meet you outside at five, then? As much as I'd like to hang out, I do need to work.'

'Yeah, all right. But, Heywood?'

'Yep?'

'It's Saturday.'

'It is. And yet, a deadline is a deadline.'

'Are you doing too much for Sanditon?'

'No. I just... weeks have ceased to hold much meaning for me, really. There are just days.'

'Just remember, all work and no play makes Jack a dull beanstalk.' 

'Ha. I mean this nicely but... sod off, Parker.'

He drained the last of his tea. 'Sodding off in progress. See you later.'

He strode away and left her to it, somehow both refreshed by his presence and left bereft by the loss of it. How inconvenient.

*

Having arranged to meet Sidney at five o'clock, Charlotte found the universe obviously conspired to make her day long and dreary - her work laptop tried and failed to apply updates. This left her left staring at 'Update 15% complete' for a full thirty-five minutes she needed to use more productively.

Returning home made little difference, except that by the time she'd had a long hot bath, dried her hair and actually found some clothes that weren't horrid, the update was 21% complete.

Giving up, Charlotte left home at half-past four to make the two-minute journey to the cinema. The crew were just finishing up and bid her a hearty good evening as they left through the side door given over to the literal ins-and-outs of the rebuild.

'Hello?' she called out into the building.

'I'm upstairs!' James yelled back. 

James was in the project office, frowning at something.

'What's the matter?'

'I'm not sure yet. Either a miscalculation or someone - me - didn't review the glazing contract properly. It'll be fine.'

'Can I help?'

'Nah... unless you want to read the entire contract to find any reference to damage contingency.'

'I haven't got anything else to do until five, so-'

James looked at her. 'Yeah, er... what are you doing here?'

Charlotte tried and failed not to go red. 'I said I'd show Sidney around.'

She hated the way his gaze fixed upon her and his brows furrowed. 'Really.'

'Yeah. Don't look at me like that.'

'Charlotte-' he sighed. 'Ah, do what you're going to do.'

'He's just my friend. We're trying to be friends.'

'Right. Because that worked so well last time.'

'It did! Until... it didn't.'

'Yeah. And I'll still be delighted to beat Parker's arse all the way up and down the prom.'

'Not necessary, but thank you. I just... don't judge me, James.'

'I'm not judging you. I'm_ concerned_, but I'm not judging.'

'Good. Give me the bloody contract.' She snatched it away once offered. 'You don't make mistakes.'

'Nobody's perfect.' He sighed. 'But I suppose if we're all imperfect, we're all worthy of forgiveness.'

'Yeah... if one stops doing the thing that caused the hurt in the first place.'

'Yeah,' James echoed. 'Imagine if someone did that.'

'Hmm...' Charlotte was very proud of herself for focusing entirely on the document for a full ten minutes. 'Ah! Section 4.5.2: _the Contractor is responsible for damages until such time as the Work has been fitted and confirmed as fit by the Site Engineer._ Is that what you wanted?'

He reached out for the contract. 'It's a start. Now I just need to find out if the engineer signed off on it.'

'What's the actual problem?'

'You'll see for yourself on your intimate guided tour.'

'Intimate? Fuck off, James.'

'I'm not the one who arranged to meet my former boyfriend to show him around_ after_ everyone else has gone home.'

'OK, firstly: that's probably not the right word. And secondly: health and safety dictated that I not bring anyone on-site unnecessarily while work was in progress!'

'Yeah, you keep telling yourself that.' He grinned at her. 'Who said that rationalisation is the most powerful human emotion?'

'James?'

'Yeah?'

'Fuck off.'

'Can't, I'm working.' He stood just enough to reach over the table. 'Here, take the spare hi-viz jacket for Parker. And I need you both to wear hard hats on site. Any other protection is your own lookout.'

'James!' She snatched the vest away so she could avoid his sharp eyes.

'I'm joking! I mean, seriously, don't have sex on my site. It's not sanitary. Or safe.' He shuddered theatrically at the thought of it. 

'I am not- that is not- ugh, I hate you!'

'And I love you too.'

'I'm really _not _going to- that would be an idiotic idea.'

'Yes, it would. But... yanno, people make foolish choices when it comes to affection and... whatnot.'

'They do. But I'm not going to.'

'Charlotte?' James' tone changed from jocularity to seriousness.

'Yeah?'

'Was what he did so very unforgivable?'

'Unforgivable? I don't know. But it felt fucking _horrible_, and I never want to feel like that ever again.'

'Ah. Well... that's a different kettle of fish. The bad stuff is the trade-off for the good stuff. Can't be afraid of that.'

'You sound like my therapist. And I'm not_ afraid. _Why would I be afraid of something I've already lived through perfectly well?'

'Perfectly?'

'Tolerably. But... why would I put myself through it again, James? Why?'

'Because that's the risk you take. I suppose... the question is whether you consider the benefits worth the risk.'

'Why do I feel like you're going to make me complete a risk assessment form?'

'Just be grateful I'm not also asking for a RACI. Does your therapist make you fill out forms?'

'Sometimes.'

'Mine was bloody obsessed with getting me to fill in forms. I stopped going because I wanted help, not admin.'

'I didn't know-'

'Yeah. Long time ago.' James sighed and stretched as much as the limited space would allow. 'I'm going to take all this toss home and finish reading in an armchair with a cup of decent tea. Have a good evening, lovely.'

'Thanks.'

'I mean it, Charlotte. You deserve good things.'

'I do deserve good things.'

As he passed her, James planted an affectionate kiss to the top of her head. 'Nighty-night.'

She checked the clock - nine minutes to go.


	48. Not Your Grandmother's Balcony Scene

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the comments for the last chapter - I appreciate it!
> 
> I really wasn't sure how this was going to go when I started writing it. I had a vague idea, and then a bit of an idea of where I wanted it to be... and neither happened, to be honest. Sometimes that's a good thing. I leave it to you to decide.
> 
> I hope you're all well and doing OK, whatever that looks like for you.

Sidney was running _early_. He knew it even before he opened his hotel room door, before the coast walk to town, before he reached the promenade.

His day had been tolerably fine: a game of squash with the rejuvenated Crowe; a chunk of dull paperwork completed in the quiet of his room; getting to listen to Charlotte speak with such verve about the cinema.

He corrected himself: it been more than tolerably good. He'd almost sprung out of his seat when Charlotte agreed to show him around the cinema. The request had been out of his mouth before he'd been able to stop himself. It was a_ business_ request, he rationalised over and over throughout the day.

Still, he'd never been this nervous walking to a business meeting. Not even as a green young fool. He'd been too_ cocky_ to be nervous back then. There was something to be said for unbelievable self-belief - especially now that he'd lost it in a haze of heartbreak and therapy.

'Sidney!'

He looked up and out of his thoughts to find Mary stood nearby, evidently on her way to or from the Coffee Cabin, clutching several overstuffed tote bags. They exchanged a brief but entirely affectionate hug.

'What brings you into town?'

'Meeting at the cinema.'

He tried to make this sound casual and of unimportance but from the slight quirk of Mary's lips and the gleam in her eye, she understood perfectly.

'Well,' she said. 'I hope it's productive.'

'Same.'

Her expression hardened. 'You broke her heart, Sidney. Don't do that again.'

'Doing my best, Mary.'

'That's all I'll ever ask of you.' She rolled onto tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. 'Love you. Come to lunch tomorrow.'

'If I can bring Crowe.'

'If he can be relatively sober around my children, of course.'

He chuckled and watched a moment as she rushed down to the Cabin, totes thumping against each other as she moved.

Now all that remained was to go into the cinema. Was it too early? Was he too late, even?

_ 16:54. _ He could surely justify going inside now - that wasn't _too _early, was it?

By the time he actually made it to the side entrance, it was 16:55. Waiting to be buzzed in took another thirty seconds and it was undoubtedly another 90 to get up to the office where Charlotte waited. Not too early.

Charlotte was at the desk when he made it to the office. She didn't look up from what she was doing but pointed at a hi-viz jacket and hard hat. 'You'll need to put those on.'

He did, feeling utterly foolish as he did, like a child playing dress-up.

Charlotte finally looked up. 'Hi! Sorry, I was just getting a couple of things-'

'It's fine, really. I'm early. A bit, anyway.'

She made a few more pencil marks on what looked like a contract, tossed the pencil down on the table and then smiled, 'Done. Ready?'

'As I'll ever be.'

He waited while she shrugged her own vest on and shoved a bright red hard hat over her hair. 'How come you get a red one? That's much cooler than acid lemon.'

'They had to get me a smaller one for my delicate lady-noggin.' She rolled her eyes. 'This was what I got given.'

Sidney rather thought there was more to it than that, as most hard hats were pretty much one-size-fits-all, but asking would delay their tour, and he didn't want to do that.

Charlotte led him out of the office and through the plastic sheeting protecting the room from the works.

'So,' she began. 'A lot of the structural work is well underway, thanks to Milo bankrolling a full crew. Still, lots to do with electrics and plumbing, but the building shouldn't fall down any time soon, which is a definite improvement.'

She led him down the back stairs, past the concessions store and into the lobby. 'So, we've already- oh holy fucking hell, no wonder he was so angry!'

Charlotte stopped suddenly; Sidney crashed into her, having been more concerned with proximity to her than his surroundings, like some kind of soft teenage boy.

'What's the matter?' he asked, fighting the urge to put his hands on her shoulders. He stepped away to minimise the risk.

'That! That's what's bloody wrong!' Charlotte pointed up at the new dome.

Ah. Right. The metal frame was gorgeous, actually. It was made of clean, elegant lines like the very best art deco design should be, matching the original building quite perfectly. The silver metal gleamed in the evening light above, sending soft light into the atrium.

Except, one large pane of glass, through which a rainbow shone through the prism created by an almighty crack across it. A gap between it and the frame did not help.

'No wonder James was so angry,' Charlotte snapped. 'How do you get it that badly wrong?'

'Did they crack it trying to make it fit or something? Like Cinderella's slipper?'

'I have no idea but... the state of it! Someone messed up.'

'Quite.' He looked again. 'It'll be beautiful once it's corrected, though.'

'I think so.' Charlotte sighed. 'It's fantastic. It's going to be so light and airy in here once everything's done. The light in the summer, the moonlit sky of a winter's evening... yeah. And when the whole space is ready, it's going to be amazing. Prussian blue and cream walls, with silver fittings - silver-looking, anyway. We're getting an amazing carpet delivered, totally bespoke design... it's going to be amazing. James did such a good job!'

'How much of that is James, and how much is you?'

'Well...' It was dimly lit, but he saw her blush anyway. 'I chose some colours and stuff, but... really-'

'James is an architect, not a designer.'

'True, but between us all and Milo had the carpet people lined up- he's really good at details when he wants to be.'

'Yeah, but how much of it's _you_? Be honest. There's being a team player, and there's ignoring your own contribution.'

'You're not an objective observer.'

'Nor are you.'

'I just make some suggestions - they take them or not.'

'How's the self-esteem issues, Heywood?'

'Still old friends, thank you.'

'Sorry, I meant- it was a joke. A bad one. I'm sorry.'

'Yeah. It's fine. I just... I'm tired.'

'I'm not surprised, given how hard you work.'

She sighed. 'I suggested the art deco theme, but given the building dates back to 1931, it's not groundbreaking-'

'Stop. Did you, or did you not, make a perfectly sound suggestion?'

'Yes.'

'Did the other people think it was such a good idea that they wholeheartedly embraced it?'

'I dunno about- yeah.'

'Did they think it was such a good idea that it's all over the place?'

'Yes.'

'So, in conclusion... you should take the credit for a great idea. It is known.'

'_It is known_? Have you been bingeing Game of Thrones again?'

'No, more that I can just summon cheap references at will. Quick, ask me for some Cliffs Notes Shakespeare.'

She laughed then, and he felt the tension dissipate. 

'You're doing a great job,' he said. 'The whole team - except apparently the glaziers - but you personally too. Nothing wrong with saying so.'

She sighed. 'Yeah. Maybe.'

'Look,' he pointed up at the dome and the incomplete, cracked pane. 'That's a bad job. That's not what you do. So... show me the rest of your domain, milady.'

She rolled her eyes at his theatrics but continued the tour, explaining how the concessions and Box Office would be laid out, explaining how they would be decorating with historical pictures of the cinema, Sanditon and old movie posters. 

'And we've got this space here for some miniature exhibitions. We can tie it in with whatever festival or season we've got going on...' Charlotte waved a hand at the strange recess under the main stairs that led into a room too big for storage but too small for any particularly valuable public space.

'Cool.'

The toilets were still just a shell with a few pipes sticking out of the floor, so they did not linger. Into the main auditorium, Sidney's breath caught.

It was dark until Charlotte switched on a set of temporary lights set around the theatre. The walls had yet to be replastered so were crumbling, cracked and worn, but the new ceiling was in place overhead. 

The old seats had all been ripped up - a new wooden floor gleamed, interrupted only by the fixtures already set and waiting for new rows of seats.

Above, the new balcony loomed. Sidney moved further inside to get a better look. It was made of steel, attached and secured by a series of huge bolts in the back wall.

'We nearly went for something freestanding,' Charlotte said. 'But the supports would've hampered the view in the back stalls too much. I think it looks good, though.'

'Can we go up there?'

'If you like. Want to see the projection room too?'

'Yeah, why not?'

Charlotte took him up the stairs, the uncarpeted wood echoing in the quiet evening. The projection room was empty and therefore not particularly impressive, although he listened eagerly to Charlotte's explanations of the gear they had coming.

She held the door to the balcony open for him, and he hesitated, chivalry getting in the way of passing through. 'I've got the door now, just go.'

He did.

How could this place feel so new and yet so familiar all at the same time? The view was basically the same - the plasterwork proscenium arch around the screen (currently missing) - but the balcony itself was new. He could feel how solid it was underfoot and there were no seats yet, except for a few plastic patio chairs at the bottom where the crew took their breaks.

Sidney walked down the sloping balcony, peering carefully at where the steps were - the lights down below cast a silky grey light across the balcony but it wasn't enough to see clearly. He leaned against the railing and let a swathe of memories wash over him.

It was the same and not the same, all at once. The memories were not oppressive, not painful; they simply _were _. They did not pull at him, demanding his attention, energy and feelings.

'Are you all right?' Charlotte's voice bounced off the bare walls.

'I think I am,' Sidney replied, sitting down in one of the plastic chairs. It wobbled dangerously but did not collapse. 'It's going to be fantastic.'

'I think so.' Charlotte took one of the other seats and leaned on the railing. 'Building it is the easy bit. We have to get people to _come_.'

Sidney couldn't help but laugh. 'Yeah... but if we build it... they will come.'

'Oh, do sod off, Parker.'

'We have solid plans for programming.'

'If we can get the prints we want. Fuck, if I can convince Brian to say-'

'Course you can.' Unconsciously, Sidney reached for her hands. 'I know you can. Seriously, you're the reason any of this is happening at all. I think you're a force of nature, Charlotte. I'm... I'm so sorry to have contributed to any feelings you have of being anything less than magnificent. I know I did, and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.'

He felt Charlotte begin to pull away and then change her mind. 'I know you are. Doesn't change anything, though.'

'I know. But... I am sorry. And if' the words caught in his throat. 'if we're done forever, I understand. But I don't want to be done forever.'

She did pull away now. 'Sidney-'

'I'll only say it once and then never again unless you ask me to. I'm sorry that I hurt you. Desperately, wretchedly sorry. I love you, and if we're done forever, I'll do so quietly and never say a word of it ever again. But I hope we're not.'

Charlotte hunched over in her seat. His heart was pounding almost up his throat and out of his mouth. It wouldn't do to be the first person to vomit off the balcony.

'Sorry I'll go. I didn't come here to do this, really. I just- sorry.' He scrambled out of the chair, which tipped over with a _ thwack. _

Sidney was almost through the door when a single, almost-suppressed sob tore through the empty cinema. He froze, turned around and went back to her.

Charlotte was trying desperately to remain collected, but it was obviously a losing battle.

Sidney had been on the receiving end of many a crying fit of Eliza's back in the day. A couple had even been on this balcony's predecessor. Suddenly, he saw them for what they were: carefully constructed performances rendered artificial at the sight of the real thing now.

Perhaps it wasn't right to compare one with the other, but it was his first thought.

'Charlotte,' he whispered. 'Don't cry over me. I'm really not worth the effort.'

Sidney knelt by her and wrapped her in a hug, as she cried uncontrollably like her heart was breaking.

No, he corrected himself, it _had _broken - it was his fucking fault.

'I'm sorry,' he said again. He had said it many times before to many different people. This time, he meant it with every fibre of his being.

They remained like this until she was finished - while part of Sidney's brain _screamed _to pull away, the rest of it held firm. His shirt was quite soaked with tears, but he couldn't bring himself to mind. And if his own eyes were red, sore and damp, he wasn't going to admit it.

Charlotte twisted out of the hug and wiped at her face with her sleeve. 'I didn't mean- I'm sorry, I just...'

'I know.'

'Some fucking tour.'

'I've had worse.'

'You can't possibly-'

'I'll tell you about Delaware one of these days.' His faint little joked raised a faint little smile. 'Do you want a drink or something? I probably owe you a hot chocolate. At _least_.'

'At the very least.' She sniffled. 'Coffee Cabin is still open.'

'Well then, let's ditch the shiny accessories and get over there. Can't go wrong with a hot chocolate.'

'I should wash my face first.'

'Me too.'

'Maybe not the Cabin, then.' She sighed. 'I should probably just go home.'

'I owe you hot chocolate.'

She sighed. 'You do. And I do want to hear about Delaware.'

'Well, then. The Coffee Cabin it is?'

He could all but see her weighing up her options. 'Yeah, all right. But I'm going home to fix the horrendous mess that is my face right now.'

'OK.'

They put the hi-viz away in awkward silence. Charlotte shut off all the lights and then secured the building. Outside, they hesitated. What was actually next? He felt sure that if she went home, he wouldn't see her again today. An excuse would come up, he was sure.

'Charlotte?'

'Yeah.'

'Can I come in and wash my face too?'

'Is that the weirdest euphemism-'

'No, I mean_ actually _\- Mary will know something's up.'

'Fine. Come on, then.'

They rushed to Waterloo Terrace, both hoping to do so unseen. For once, they were in luck. They took the stairs quietly, Charlotte unlocked the door, and then, they were inside, away from anyone else.

'You know where the bathroom is.'

'Ladies first.'

'Fine.' Charlotte went into the bathroom, leaving Sidney alone to look around.

Everything looked much as it had when he'd last been there. It wasn't _that_ long ago in the overall scheme of things or compared to geological eras, but it felt like a lifetime. Hell, a pair of his cufflinks sat on the coffee table, clearly left behind at some point and waiting only for a moment in which they could be returned. 

He was rolling them around in his palms when Charlotte emerged, fresh-faced but a little tired. 

'Sorry,' she said. 'I kept meaning to get them back to you but-'

'I didn't miss them, it's really fine.' He set them back on the table. At the bathroom door, he paused. 'Charlotte?'

'Yes?'

'For the record? You're really one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen in my life.'

'Oh sod-'

'I mean it. Right this very minute, you are.'

'You are also... not ugly.'

He laughed, taking the offered pressure release of a joke. 'I'll take that.'

Sidney wasted no time in washing the salt and soreness from his face so he could get back to her quicker. He perhaps ought to slow down and think, but she was _here. _

Charlotte was staring at her phone when he returned.

'You OK?'

'Hot chocolate will have to wait. My dad fell off a ladder and is currently on his way to Conquest A&E.'

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'It is known' is from early Game of Thrones - Daenerys' handmaidens.
> 
> 'If you build it, they will come' is from Field of Dreams, a baseball film that is almost entirely *not* to do with baseball.
> 
> Conquest - the hospital with an Accident & Emergency Unit nearest where I've put Willingden in Sussex is called Conquest Hospital. It's also Sanditon's closest, based on where I plonked that, because the two aren't really that far away from each other. The more you know...


	49. Terrible Tea and Stew

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whatever block was bothering me seems to be fading and I had a day off today so, after a 5k run and literally hours of procrastinating with the internet, some musical instruments and laundry... here we go.
> 
> I might sound like a broken record but: thank you for all your comments. I really appreciate the lovely ones, the constructive ones, the funny ones, the heartfelt ones. And I am so happy to be providing some small diversion from the fucknuttery of these days of ours.
> 
> If you're wondering, timelines wise, as far as I'm concerned, the LAPHverse has no coronavirus. Heck, while I'm at it, it has a fully-funded NHS, Marvin, Prince and Bowie are still alive and Jane Austen lived long enough to complete her unfinished stories. If I've got any powers as the Voice of [Borrowed] God, might as well make the most of it.

'All this fuss for nothing!'

Charlotte fought hard not to roll her eyes at her father, but his casual attitude towards _falling off a ladder, breaking his leg and fracturing his wrist _was... annoying.

In the minutes after receiving her mother's frantic call as she waited for the ambulance to make it to Willingden, Charlotte hadn't known what to think, except that she needed to get to the hospital.

Sidney had insisted on driving her there - they'd run from the town centre to the Hall like their heels were on fire. Bundled into the Aston (Charlotte could admit to herself at least that she had missed the Aston) they'd made it to the hospital before the Heywoods.

He hadn't even complained about the cost of parking, but she supposed that was because he could easily afford it.

'He'll be all right,' Sidney said before they went inside.

Charlotte squashed the impulse to growl. 'You have_ literally _no way of knowing that.'

'He's a Heywood. They don't break so easily.'

'So you'd think. And yet the evidence-' She hid her hands in her pockets to hide the tremble.

'Crying isn't breaking. Ask me how I know. You're made of sterner stuff than that.'

'I feel like I've spent the last however-long either crying, feeling like I'm about to burst into tears or just recovering from having cried.' She took a breath.

'I'm sorry-'

'As much as I'd love to attribute all blame to you, I can't. Some of it's been a long time coming, really.'

'Attribute? I've missed the higher class of conversation I get with you, Heywood.'

She scoffed, eyes rolling as she looked out of the window. 'You went with "wretchedly" earlier.'

'I hoped you hadn't noticed.'

'I noticed.'

They were still stood outside the Conquest Hospital emergency ward, near a cluster of patients who'd come out to smoke. The doors swept open and closed at regular intervals with new arrivals, new departures and people trying to find ways of passing the estimated four-hour wait.

'He won't come in this way,' Sidney said after a moment of not entirely uncomfortable silence. 'If he's coming by ambulance. We should go in and ask.'

'We?' Charlotte asked, genuinely surprised, having assumed he'd drop her off and be done with it. 'I thought you'd-'

'You might have a long wait,' he said, suddenly shifting on his feet a little, apparently nervous, or embarrassed perhaps. 'I don't mind waiting with you. If you want, I mean. I can go-'

'No, no. Thank you. We should... go and find out what the actual fuck is happening.'

From there, it had been easy, but not quick. Mr Heywood was brought in and obliged to wait in some pain on the emergency ward while the orthopaedist was able to attend. Charlotte, not allowed onto the ward, spent most of this time on her phone, messaging with her mother, brother and sister. All that while, Sidney sat with her. She appreciated his not trying to make conversation, although it was likely not the most fun Saturday evening he'd ever had.

After a while waiting, a few facts became clear: the leg was a clean break that only needed plaster and later physio; the wrist was a mess, so he'd be going into surgery tomorrow.

Just after half-past eight, Mr Heywod was admitted onto a ward overnight Charlotte was allowed up to see him - briefly. 

'I'll wait here,' Sidney said of the waiting room. It was a relief - now was not the time to be introducing him to her family, in any sense of the word.

Seeing Charlotte rush over to him had caused Mr Heywood's outburst.

'It wasn't a _fuss _to come and make sure you're all right!' she snapped back. Everything was _too much_. 'And I can see that you _aren't_, so-'

'Enough of that,' Mr Heywood said, softer now. 'How the hell did you even get here this time of night?

'Sidney drove me-'

Mr Heywood's eyebrows rose almost to his hairline. '_Sidney? _'

She forced herself not to look away, no matter how much she longed to. 'The second Parker brother, Dad. I've mentioned him plenty of times. He's part of the regeneration scheme too.'

'You haven't, which is interesting in and of itself. And who's Sidney Parker when he's at home, to be giving you rides to places?'

She sighed. 'We were in the middle of a site visit when Mama called. He was happy to help.'

Almost true. Not _exactly _a lie. Charlotte kept her gaze steady and, eventually, her father relented.

'Well, you'll need money for a taxi home-' He started twisting to reach his jacket, where his wallet was.

'Dad! I can get myself home. Don't worry about that. If anything, you should be worrying about the farm-'

'It'll be fine.'

'You fell off a fucking ladder!'

'Don't swear at me, young lady!'

'Sorry! But you- you're really badly hurt-'

'I am aware. Thank you, Reggie Bosanquet.'

She ignored his sarcastic reference to an old school newsreader. 'And you... you can't keep on as you have been.'

He scowled and actually folded his arms over his chest. 'Who are you to tell me what to do, eh?'

'Someone who loves you. You know, I thought Mama was being silly the other week when she wanted me to go up in the attic for her. A bit overreacty, I thought.'

'Overreacty isn't a word, Charlotte.'

'Oh, shush. You fell off a _ladder_, and now you're nil by mouth until surgery tomorrow. She reached over and straightened the blankets. 'You can't keep on as you have.'

'I know that,' he replied, through the most gritted of teeth. 'You don't have to tell me that, young one.'

For a moment, she saw him drop the brave facade. It wasn't for long, but it was enough. Charlotte had spent her entire life looking up to him, this strong-as-the-day-is-long man who could build, make and grow _anything_. There wasn't an animal in the world that wouldn't respond to George Heywood; there wasn't a challenge he couldn't overcome.

And now, a fucking _ladder _had put him in the hospital. There would be no quick recovery; there would be no "getting over it" as her father said with a shrug any time he got sick and was up on his feet long before he ought to be.

What the hell was going to happen now?

'I'll come home,' she said. 'I can help-'

'No, you bloody won't!' Mr Heywood tried to sit up a little, but with no success. 'You stay where you're meant to be, young lady.'

'But I can-'

'Not on your nelly!'

'Dad-'

'No. That's my final answer, and I won't be persuaded otherwise.'

'Dad...' she sighed and offered him some assistance with getting comfortable. 'What are you going to do, then?'

'Dunno yet,' he said, bluster returning. 'But it doesn't involve you putting your life on hold. _ Again _.'

Ah, there it was. 'You think I put my life on hold? Before?'

'I don't _think_, I know. Now, it's late, and I need to try and rest before any of these irritating sods start wailing in pain all night or something.'

She knew a dismissal when she heard it. 'Night then, Dad.'

'Good night, love. Get home safe.'

'I will.' She didn't explain a taxi was unnecessary as she leaned over to kiss his cheek. Then, she grabbed his wallet. 'I'm going to give this to Mama, so nobody else takes it.'

'You worry too much.'

'You don't worry enough.'

'Charlotte, rest assured that I worry about most things most of the time.' He squeezed her hand. 'Thank you for coming.'

She blinked back sudden, scalding tears. 'Of course I did. See you tomorrow?'

'I'll be in surgery. Mother will call you with the best time to visit.'

'All right then. See you soon.'

Charlotte left the ward quickly then and, having transferred the wallet to her mother with an accompanying hug, she went downstairs to find Sidney.

He was in the cafe where she'd left him nursing what was almost certainly a vile cup of tea made just before the cafe itself shut for the evening.

Her heart sputtered: he was not alone. She wanted to turn tail and run as far as she could - possibly all the way home - but he caught sight of her.

'Is he all right?' he asked, no attention at all on the person sitting opposite.

'Could've been worse.' She turned. 'I didn't know you were here, Uncle Stew.'

Stew smirked at her, looking between the two of them. 'Came as soon as I could. Came in here to grab a beverage - bloody awful it is - and saw this young man sat here, minding his own business and I just had a sixth sense that he was something to do with you.'

'Uncle Stew...'

'Ah, I'm teasing, Skips. I recognised him from the Google search I did after your last visit home.'

She prayed that he had said and would say no more. 'Well, I really need to get back, and I've wasted enough of Sidney's evening-'

'It's fine,' Sidney began.

'We're having a lovely _chat_,' Uncle Stew added, an edge to his voice that she did not trust _at all_. Was it suspicious, threatening, teasing or all three?

'I don't believe you,' she retorted, to his amusement and Sidney's raised eyebrow. 'You're up to something.'

'Me? Pshaw, niece, _pshaw_!'

'Don't "pshaw" your way out of this. What are you after?'

'Well, Skips,' he said, a little seriously. 'I was frankly stunned to see him here in our parochial little medical establishment, so I had to come over and ask. Imagine my surprise when he said he brought you here.'

'He did a nice thing,' Charlotte replied. 'And-'

'Charlotte, it's me you're talking to, beloved Uncle Stew. If you thought I was going to walk past him after everything, I've got a bridge to sell you.'

'I've really- this has been a very long day and I just...' She sighed. 'Whatever. Do whatever you're going to do.'

'Is he all right?' Uncle Stew switched subjects. 'I got here too late for visiting times, and your mum said you were up there anyway.'

'He's not all right,' Charlotte snapped, sliding into the seat next to Stew, which seemed a safer bet that next to Sidney. 'And he's pretending like nothing much is amiss.'

'Yeah, I supposed as much. Stubborn old sod.'

'Uncle Stew!'

'He is! Anyway, it'll all work out-'

'I said I'd come home-'

'Not on your nelly!' For all that Uncle Stew and her dad were mostly not at all alike, there were ways in which they were clearly brothers. 'Not after everything.'

She saw Sidney shuffle uncomfortably in his seat. 'He doesn't mean _you_, Sidney. This time, anyway.'

'That's not- never mind.'

Charlotte turned her attention back to her uncle. 'And what else are we going to do? The farm won't run itself-'

'I already phoned Nicky and told him to get his lazy arse on a plane-'

'Uncle Stew, you can't!'

'Course I can. High time he stopped messing around and came home to face his responsibilities.' Uncle Stew said this so casually as if he hadn't just ordered a grown man to leave his life on the other side of the planet.

'And yet you want me to stay away?'

'Not the same.'

'How is it not the same?' She slapped a hand down on the plastic table and winced a little.

'Because,' Uncle Stew said, taking her hand, 'Nicky is a born farmer, and he's always said he's coming home to take over when it's time. It's time.'

'Stew...'

'If he didn't want it, I'd not say a word, Skips. But he does. He just doesn't want the work. Well, it's _time_. He needs... Skips, if he only comes home when it's too late, then it'll be too late. Nicky needs to take over while George is still here to set him right when he needs to. He should've come home a long time ago. You know that.'

Charlotte did know that. She didn't need anyone to quote farming scripture at her or spew out statistics on the number of farming fatalities regarding older men who worked longer than they ought for lack of options.

'I can still help-'

'Go home, Charlotte.' Uncle Stew was firm now and released her hands. 'I mean that literally, metaphorically, emotionally, grammatically, philosophically and-'

'I get the idea, thank you. I know where I'm not wanted.'

'Skips, it is a terrible thing to watch someone you love live a life they're not meant to live. Ask me how I know.'

'How'd you know?' she snapped back, still smarting at not being needed or wanted.

He patted her hand. 'I tell you what... I'm going to visit this Sanditon of yours soon.'

'You'd leave your vines that long? It's a whole 14 miles!'

'For you, Skips.' Uncle Stew got up, kissed the top of her head and wished them both the briefest of farewells.

Charlotte took a long deep breath.

'So, that's Uncle Stew,' said Sidney.

'Whatever he said-'

'It's nothing I didn't deserve, and he was really... rather nice about it all, really. Didn't threaten any important organs or anything. Seems like a nice chap, really.'

'He's the best. I just... why won't he let me help?'

Sidney reached across the table, his terrible tea entirely ignored. 'Because he knows you'd kill yourself helping if he let you. The way the rest of us do.'

Another sigh.

'Is your father's injury very bad?'

'He won't work for weeks - if he's lucky. Months, more likely. He's going to go out of his mind. But it could've been worse, I suppose.'

'Yeah.'

'Thank you for waiting.'

'You're welcome.'

'Doesn't Crowe wonder where you got to?'

Sidney shrugged and rechecked his phone. 'The Hall has a fully-stocked bar; he'll be fine. Want me to drive you home?'

'Yes, please. Thank you.'

They walked out of the hospital into the darkness of a mid-autumn night. The air was fresh but not quite biting cold yet as they walked swiftly across the car park to his Aston.

The drive back was quick and quiet, neither particularly wanting to speak and break whatever they had - was it a truce? Something more solid and lasting than that?

At Waterloo Terrace, he pulled up and left the engine idling.

'Thank you again, Sidney.'

'Least I could do.'

Impulsively, Charlotte undid her seatbelt and leaned over to kiss him. Whether she was going to land on cheek or lips, she didn't know until it happened, and she was both relieved and disappointed to get scruffy cheek. 'I mean it.'

'And you're very welcome,' he replied, blinking rapidly. 'I'll see you at lunch tomorrow?'

She froze, her overture stopped before it could really begin. 'Yeah, of course.'

Charlotte wasted no time in getting out and into the building. Her heart was _sick _as she ran up the stairs.

Yet, before she could even reach Flat D, her phone pinged. 

** Parker: **You've had a strange and upsetting day. I don't think you'd like me much tomorrow if I took advantage of that.

She sighed and leaned her forehead against the door. A hard lump formed in her throat as she realised he was right. She'd been so busy listening to James about _earlier _that she'd- ugh. No, that would've been a disaster. She felt a whoosh of hot shame rush down her spine.

** Me:** I fucking hate when you're right.

** Parker: **I know. See you tomorrow. Sleep well.

*

Charlotte slept deep and woke late on Sunday. James sent a series of messages enquiring about the evening, the tenor of which changed once he heard about her dad. Mary wanted to confirm whether Charlotte was coming to lunch, given that Sidney and Crowe were also on the guestlist. Her mother sent a detailed, correctly punctuated and formatted update about her dad - surgery planned for 4.30 pm. Uncle Stew sent a series of silly and apologetic gifs and YouTube videos, culminating in the clip of Bowie's _Requiem for a Laughing Gnome _that had her shrieking with laughter before she'd even risen from her bed.

So it was that she was feeling much better when she arrived at Trafalgar House for lunch and could cope with the Parker children's excitement.

'Charlotte! Mummy said we can go to the beach before lunch!' Jenny announced almost the moment Charlotte arrived.

'Will you come with us? Come with us!' Alicia shrieked, already pulling Charlotte back towards the door.

'Give Charlotte some space!' Mary called from the kitchen. 'If you don't want to go, I understand. I know you had a long night at the hospital.'

'No, it's all good. Come on then... we're not going to have much beach time once the weather gets rubbish, are we?' she asked the children, who answered loudly in their usual ways.

Outside, they bumped into the newly-arrived Parker and Crowe.

'Going somewhere?' Sidney asked, effortlessly scooping Alicia up onto his back.

'We're going to the beach, Uncle Sidney!' Jenny told him as Henry demanded a piggyback from Charlotte just like Alicia was getting.

Sidney's eyes shone and his face transformed into the open smile Charlotte had forgotten she missed. 'Can we come?'

She nodded. 'If you want to.'

The smile remained. 'Always, Heywood.'

Behind him, Crowe rolled his eyes.

*


	50. Fifty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Fifty, eh? Shame to waste it on filler but here we are.
> 
> Or is it? Maybe it's just short. Maybe just an interlude. Maybe a necessary moment in which things reset. Or begin to reset. Or begin the process of beginning to reset. 
> 
> I dunno. I do hope you like it, brief though it may be. 
> 
> Thanks for all the comments so far - I hope to catch up on replies soon. I wanted to get this posted first!

There was nothing awkward about the group that hastened down to the beach before the dark clouds above Eastbourne could reach them. The children were so excited to have Uncle Sidney  _ and _ Charlotte to play with that they quite forgot any grown-up drama. Their elation was infectious, and Sidney would've sworn that Crowe cracked a smile despite being absolutely sober.

Almost sober: for Crowe, a pint at 11 on a Sunday morning wasn't drinking so much as it was maintenance.

Time passed quickly on the beach, although Sidney would be hard-pressed to describe to anyone what they did. They definitely played Stuck in the Mud until it descended into nothing more than excitable, aimless running about.

Sidney could've stayed there all day. It was the lightest, happiest he'd felt for such a long time - had he  _ ever  _ felt like this? 

Fortunately, Charlotte's phone rang loud and shrill just at the moment they needed to go back to the house. The thought of Mary's best Sunday roast made Sidney's mouth water. 

By the time they got back to the house, cleaned up and sat down to eat, the skies darkened, the heavens opened and the most torrential rain in weeks poured down on the little town of Sanditon.

'You made it back just in time!' Mary said brightly as she and Tom brought out serving dishes and plates piled high with roast ham, potatoes, cauliflower, broccoli, carrots and leeks.

Sidney didn't listen too hard to the conversation around the table. His mind was much too full of... everything. 

'...Sidney?'

Someone was talking to him. He blinked and glanced around. 'Sorry, what?'

'I was just saying what a stroke of luck Milo Shaw is!' Tom replied.

'Stroke of luck?' Sidney blinked again. 'I'm not sure luck had much to do with it-'

'A stroke of luck! Fate, if you will-'

'No, I understand.' Heaviness settled on his shoulders again. 'It just wasn't  _ luck _ so much as it was a lot of hard work.'

Mary, as usual, intervened as peacekeeper. 'I'm sure he didn't mean it like-'

'It's fine,' Sidney replied. It was not fine. 'I get it.'

He felt the mood shift around the table and mostly regretted it. Rather than say something else he might regret, Sidney shoved a mouthful of broccoli into his mouth.

'I didn't realise how much hard work this would be,' Charlotte said. 'I mean, I knew it would be hard work, but the amount involved! So many plates to keep spinning and oh... I didn't know! I mean, I know you banker types get exceedingly well remunerated, but I had no idea how hard you worked for it.'

Charlotte coming to his defence was most pleasing, yet he could not shake the ill-feeling from Tom's careless remarks.

He sighed. 'It's hardly akin to scrubbing hospital bedpans or fighting fires. But it's no luck that Milo Shaw chose to invest here. It takes... finesse and persuasion and negotiation. An understanding of... you know, numbers and investing and markets and... stuff.' He faded then, embarrassed under Tom's gaze and nervous about Charlotte's.

'Well,' Tom blustered. 'Of course! I didn't say-'

'You did, though,' Sidney replied. 'It's OK, that's how you are. Everything you do is super-important, while everyone else's hard work is... what, luck? Just a bit of volunteering?'

Charlotte winced at that.

'Sidney,' Mary interrupted. 'I'm not saying you're wrong but... it's lunch.'

'Yeah,' Sidney set his fork down, broccoli now like ash in his mouth. 'Yeah. OK.'

His mind drifted again - this time, nobody tried to pull him back into the conversation until the plates were cleared away.

Crowe nudged his shoulder. 'Back to civilisation, eh?'

'Yeah. Yeah, OK.'

Sidney could not help feel unsatisfied as he said goodbye, but there wasn't anything to say that wouldn't blow things up more.

He and Crowe were halfway across the street when Charlotte called after him: 'Sidney, are you all right?'

Crowe sighed. 'You know, I rather fancy stretching my legs a bit before we get in the car.'

'Are you all right?' Charlotte asked again, now standing close and a little awkward, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. 'What Tom said-'

'I'm tired of letting him get away with being a twat  _ every single time _ . He gets to say whatever pops into his head and it doesn't matter how it affects anyone else.'

'I'm not defending him! It clearly bothered you-'

'It's fine.'

'It's not fine, though. All this bottling stuff up is how you end up feeling like crap and end up taking it out on someone else.'

Sidney took a deep breath. 'That doesn't sound like me.'

'No? I must be thinking of someone else.' She reached out and squeezed his fingertips. 'Are you back to London now?'

'Yeah.'

She let go of his fingers. 'Have a safe journey.'

'I'll try... I hope your dad's operation goes OK.'

'Me too.'

'Tell Uncle Stew I said hello.'

'I will if you tell me what he said.'

'Never.' He smiled and, realising this was the most straightforward day together they'd ever had, decided to quit while he was ahead. 'See you soon, maybe?'

'Of course. I'll... if you're in Germany at half term, maybe I'll get Gigi to facetime you while I'm there.'

'I would... that would be nice.' He saluted jovially and forced himself to turn away to fetch Crowe and his car.

As they left Sanditon behind for the wide-open dual carriageway, Crowe spoke up: 'When are you going to punch your brother for being a total wanker?'

'I can't  _ punch _ him, Crowe.'

'You should. Someone should.'

'Yeah, I know. But... no punching. I'll find a way to... I dunno.'

'Charlotte seemed friendly enough.'

'Yeah.'

'You're not going to fuck it up again?'

'Not if I can possibly help it, no.'

'Good.' Crowe leaned back in the passenger seat to snooze. 'I like her.'

'So do I.'

*


	51. Go West

It seemed like someone hit the fast-forward button on Charlotte's life that Monday morning. She arrived on-site to find James and Tom deep in conversation with the glazier and spent a portion of her time trying to mediate a resolution that didn't involve James taking a hammer to the rest of the glass in frustration but _ did _ involve getting it sorted out.

Her day job ramped up too, sending two completed manuscripts at the same time - just as Mr Heywood left hospital with his leg in a cast.

Charlotte managed a visit home the following weekend, but otherwise, any plans she might've subconsciously had to help a bit were dashed by work.

Brian The Projectionist invited her to a cinema in Brighton where he took her through the basics of cinematic projection. She now better what was needed - reading magazines and books didn't come close to seeing someone's expertise in person. It was also her first screening of _ The Seven Samurai _, which was a revelation of sorts.

There was always _ something _ to be done. Always two more things, three more things. Even her Trello boards fell by the wayside - no time to update them to keep herself on a steady organisational keel.

Time flew until the morning arrived for her drive up to Cheltenham. She'd arranged to borrow Arthur's bright green Ford Fiesta - he had no use for it in London after all, and he was more than happy to help - and she braved the S-W quarter of the M25 before reaching the prettiness of the Chilterns and Cotswolds. Traffic was slow in Cheltenham itself, but eventually, the satnav directed her into the car park at the school.

It was busy with girls going home for the week - Charlotte was nearly cracked in the skull by a wayward hockey stick wielded by a young girl with significantly more enthusiasm for the story she was telling than attention to her surroundings.

'Charlotte!' Gigi bounded down the steps to greet her with a hug. 'I've missed you!'

'I've missed you! How're things?'

Gigi shrugged. 'OK. Busy, I suppose. That's why I didn't want to go all the way to Sanditon and back just for the week. Got a lot to get on with.'

'Well, I'm here to take you to lunch at the very least.'

'Ready when you are.'

'Do you have to sign out or anything?'

'All sorted. And Sidney confirmed to them that you're a friend that's allowed to take my childish arse off the premises.'

'Gigi...'

'I know. I'm just looking forward to the moment I can tell every to go to hell.' Gigi grinned wickedly, but Charlotte fancied it did not reach her eyes. 'Where are we going for lunch?'

'You tell me.'

'Oh! Yeah, I know a place... Follow me.'

It was a short walk from the school to a domed and collonaded building bearing the unmistakable branding of The Ivy. Inside, Charlotte found an old school-type brasserie with palm trees, bright colours and sharp white walls. It was about as busy as early lunchtime on Saturday would be - a little busy with growing potential. 

'I'm buying,' Gigi said before Charlotte even had a chance to think how expensive it would be. 'And when I say "I'm buying" what I actually mean is that _ Sidney Parker _ is paying, so I recommend the lobster, caviar and champagne.'

They were seated quickly under the white dome.

'Nice, eh?'

'Very nice. I'm not used to such swish surroundings, to be honest.'

'It's OK.' Gigi waved a casual hand. 'Not a patch on the real thing, but we're in the sticks now, so needs must.'

'It's pretty. Cheltenham is pretty, in a Georgian sort of way.'

'Oh, it's _ charming.' _Gigi looked down and fiddled with her fork rather than reading the menu. 'Very quaint.'

'What's the matter?'

'Nothing much. I just...' Gigi took a breath and sighed it out. 'I really want to get out of this bloody town and get back to London.'

'I can see how a town like this might be... stifling.'

'_ Stifling _? Charlotte, do you know the population of this town?'

'No.'

'115,300. Do you know what percentage look anything like me?'

'I don't, but I'm guessing it's tiny.'

'It is. Look, when my parents were alive, we lived in Richmond which is like, super-white but still more mixed than here. And everything was on our doorstep. I know Sidney thinks I just want to go to London to, I dunno, go to clubs and stuff. And that's a little bit true. I just... I'm really tired of feeling like a fucking exotic animal to be stared at all the fucking time. But... never mind.' Gigi shook her head, locs swishing.

'You can talk to me about whatever you want, Gigi.'

'Yeah, but... you came all this way, and I want to enjoy it and... it's fine. I'll be out of here soon enough, and I'll just shut myself up to study until it's exam time.'

'That doesn't sound healthy either, but... whatever you think is best.'

'I'm definitely going to have the Eggs Florentine. Nom. And tea. And then cake.'

'Not lobster, caviar and champagne? You're with an adult so you could get served the latter.'

'Yeah, but you'd never be that irresponsible.'

'True. How is Bella?'

'She's all right. Gone to York to see her ancient grandmother or something. But we had lots of fun on the last exeunt weekend. We went to Stratford-upon-Avon with her auntie Iseult and saw a play and went to Shakespeare's house and whatnot.'

'Which play?'

'King John, but at the Swan, not the main theatre. There was a woman in the lead. It was pretty good.'

A pause in conversation fell while the waiter came to take orders.

'How's everything going with classes? Not too overwhelming?'

'Probably the exact amount of _ whelm _ I can stand.'

Charlotte was almost 100% sure something was troubling Gigi, but there was no way to force it out of her. 'Sidney said we should FaceTime him later. If you want.'

'_ You're _ talking to _ Sidney?' _

'A little bit sometimes. Why?'

'After he massively screwed you over?'

'Gigi...'

'He was an absolute arse and even if I felt sorry for him - which I definitely don't really - I'd say that. I'd have smashed his bloody phone.'

'It was tempting. But someone worked for terrible wages for that phone, and it'd be a waste of the precious metals and that.'

'True. But still-'

'Gigi, I adore you and respect your opinions, but on this, please leave it be.'

'All right.' She picked up her fork again. 'He did look like absolute shit when he dropped me off for the start of term.'

'That doesn't make me happy.'

'No, I know. You're too noble for all that.'

'I like to think more pragmatic than that. It doesn't make me feel better to know someone else is in pain.'

'Yeah, _ noble _.'

Charlotte cracked a smile. 'Do you speak to him much?'

'We talk on the phone once a week now. Doing his best, I suppose. And I know he'd be here now if his stupid job didn't send him to the Frankfurt Book Fair. Honestly, I don't know what he's doing there.'

'Acquiring a publishing house?'

'God, probably.'

Charlotte had meant it as a joke, but knowing Sidney Parker and his life, it wasn't out of the realms of possibility. 'Blimey.'

They fell silent then, in a companionable kind of way. Charlotte was so accustomed to Sidney being merely Sidney that she sometimes forgot that he was in a position to buy publishers. Or to whatever else he did.

'I mean, it's not him personally buying the publishing house,' Gigi said after a moment. 'I don't think so, anyway.'

'How are your studies coming on? Russian, Maths, Physics, Chemistry, English Literature, French...'

'And Italian. I started that this year. Piece of piss, really. Mummy liked Italy a lot; we went a lot when I was small, and they made me learn the language. They were both very keen I avoid becoming yet another Monolingual Rich Brit.'

'What's the most challenging?'

'Ugh, I don't like physics right now. It's so... _ dry _ . Between that and maths I'm just doing bloody equations all the time. And I _ know _ it's necessary for a lot of the things I want to do and some of it's brilliant, but _ aaargh! _' Gigi threw her hands up in the air, earning a glare from two ladies that had recently sat down close by.

'I wish I could help, but I stopped at GCSE.'

'Eh, I'll be fine. It's just boring.'

'What about English Lit?'

Gigi's entire expression closed off. 'It's fine.'

'Yeah?'

'Yeah. I mean- yeah, it's fine.'

'Gigi, what's the matter?'

'Nothing. Nothing _ much _.'

'They don't like your topic,' Charlotte guessed, kicking herself for taking so long to get it. 

Gigi shook her head and looked up at a point on the wall behind Charlotte. 'Nope.'

'Ah. Teachers or students?'

'Both. I mean, my _ actual _ English teacher is cool with it, but another asked me why I was choosing to be _ controversial _.'

'What did you say?'

Gigi cracked a smile. 'I said that if she thought decolonising literature was controversial, it said more about her than me.'

'She didn't like that?'

'Inevitably.'

'And students?'

'Well, some of them were already being dicks. But yeah. Most of them can't see why I don't want just to write something like "discuss the meaning of the supernatural in Hamlet" like nine girls don't choose that every year. I just... it's fine. I'll just do what I do and hope never to have to see their _ fucking _ faces ever again.'

One of the nearby women tutted. 

Gigi's phone buzzed. She glanced at it, then turned it over to hide the screen. 'I just want to get on with my life, you know? Be in control of my own destiny. That's not too much to want, right?'

'It's exactly the right amount to want, I think.'

'Yeah, you get it!'

Their food arrived - they tucked in, sticking to lighter topics like serial killer series on Netflix.

The waiter returned, her ponytail swishing. 'How was that, folks?'

'Great, thanks.'

'Would you like the sweets menu?'

Gigi answered before the question was fully asked: 'Yes, please!'

Her phone buzzed again, and she ignored it a moment, then gave in. The look of relief on her face now spoke to a place in Charlotte's head that chimed ominously like a cracked bell. What the hell was going on?

'Oh, it's Sidney. Wants to know if you made it safely and if we want to facetime.'

'Sounds like a plan.'

Gigi scooted her chair around to get them both in view and tapped to call. A few moments passed before Sidney's pixellated face appeared.

'Hey, Sidney!' Gigi called, waving a little. 

Sidney's end of the call caught up and the picture quality improved. His lips were moving, but no sound.'

'We can't hear you!'

He frowned then a blast of noise issued from Gigi's phone. 'Sorry about that.'

Gigi leaned in. 'Where are you? Looks busy.'

'The Buchmesse. Busy.'

'We have a theory you're there to buy a bunch of publishers,' Gigi teased.

'Nah,' Sidney rubbed his face with the hand not holding his phone. 'My client Mac is here launching his own. I'm just here for moral support and to make sure he doesn't piss all his money up the wall. I already had to stop him agreeing to invest in another house because he liked the colour of their brand. And then he tried to give ten thousand shares to a woman who smiled at him. It's... Are you having fun?'

'Yep. Half term starts here!'

'And Charlotte - your journey was OK?'

'OK is the right word, yeah.'

'How's your dad?'

'Ready to rip his cast off with his bare hands.'

'Gigi, what are your plans for half term other than studying? You really-' Sidney dodged out of the way of someone stomping past with a box of leaflets. 'Don't work the whole time.'

'This from the dude who thought a summer holiday without two dissertations written was slacking.'

'Yeah, well we've established that I'm an idiot. Are you the only one left at school?'

'No, there's a few of us.'

'I'll be up on Thursday or Friday if you like. Whichever you prefer. Or I can get a hotel, and we can hang out both days. If you want.'

'That sounds cool. Yeah.'

The way they were both trying to act like it didn't matter if the other said "no" made Charlotte smile even a little even as her heart broke a little.

'Gigi would _ love _ that,' she interrupted. 'What a fabulous idea.'

Gigi elbowed her, but there was no anger in it. 'You can take me to all the Oxford book shops!'

Sidney swooned a little. 'I'll be bankrupt by Saturday.'

'That's my plan.'

'Are you just up for the day, Charlotte?'

'Unfortunately. Gotta get back. They start fitting the seats on Monday, and I want to be there.'

'I'm going to show Charlotte all the best sights of Cheltenham. And once those five minutes are over, we'll do something else.'

'It is not that bad, Gigi.'

'I don't see _ you _ living here.'

'God no.' Sidney chuckled. 'Thursday, then?'

'Yes.'

'I'd like to chat more but... Mac.'

'Yeah. Sod off, Sidney.' Gigi laughed, and with a final confusion of byes on all sides, the call finished.

The waiter slid a couple of dessert menus onto the table before turning to the other table. 

'That's nice that Sidney can come up for a while.'

'Yeah. I didn't think he was going to... I mean, even when he was a full tosser he still made some time to come see me but... I've always stayed at school at half term since my dad died. It's sorta nice to be there when hardly anyone else is around.'

'Yeah?'

'Got the run of a big old building. We've been known to roller skate down the corridors.'

'Sounds fun.'

'Yeah. Not as fun as being back home but... I don't really have one of those anymore, so...'

'Sanditon?'

'Nah. That's still like visiting. Visiting family, but still. It's not _ my _ room, you know? And the Parkers are the _ best _, but they don't get it. Mary learnt how to look after Black hair a bit, to help me... but it's not the same as...' She paused. 'Sorry.'

'You don't have to apologise, Gigi. Not for how you feel.'

Her phone buzzed again. She glanced at it and scowled.

'Gigi, what's going on? I don't want to pry or make you share things you don't want to share, but I'm getting concerned about your reaction to your phone.'

Gigi collapsed in her seat. Then, she nudged the phone at Charlotte. 'You can have a look.

She tapped, and the notifications came up. There were a couple of messages from Sidney and Mary. Still, most were from 'unknown numbers' calling Gigi names with inescapable racist connotations, using her parents' deaths to suggest she was worthless and that she was a stain on the legacy of the school.

'Oh fucking hell, Gigi! How long has this been going on? This is absolutely fucking unacceptable-'

This was too much for the woman nearby. 'Would you _please _refrain from such vulgar language? We're trying to enjoy our lunch.' She all but clutched a pearl necklace.

'Sorry,' Charlotte replied without much sincerity. 'Gigi, have you told your teachers about this?'

'Why? What will they do? They never have before. They always said we had to work things out between us.'

'For small arguments. Not this. Gigi, I'm so sorry.'

'S'ok. Not the first time.'

'How long?'

'They got nasty since I chose the decolonising project, but there's always been something from someone since I started, more or less.'

'Gigi, why didn't you _ say _?'

'There's no guarantee that anywhere else would be better. And anyway, then they'd win.' For the first time since giving Charlotte her phone, Gigi met her gaze, with a combination of fear, shame and rage.

'But still. You need to take screenshots of all the messages and... I dunno, but we'll do something.'

'Charlotte. One of the girls sending messages? Her dad is an MP. He's probably going to be in the cabinet one of these days. You think they're going to do a _ thing _ about that?'

'Probably not. But speaking up means at least letting them know it's not acceptable. And... Gigi?'

'Yeah?'

'You know you need to tell Sidney.'

'Charlotte...'

'If you don't, I will. I can't in good conscience stay quiet about it. I'm sorry, but you know I can't.'

'Yeah. I'll talk to him on Thursday.'

'If you do it sooner, he can speak to someone at the school when he's here, no?'

Gigi sighed and slumped down in her seat, looking precisely like the teenager she was. 'All right. I'll call him later.'

'Want me to stay longer? You don't have to be here on your own.'

'You've got things to do-'

'Nothing that can't wait until at least Monday.'

'You don't have anything with you-'

'Nothing I can't acquire.' Buying fresh clothes and toiletries was an unexpected expense, but she could handle it if she found some stuff in the H&M sale rack. 'Or you can come back to Sanditon with me.'

'Nah, then they'll think they won. And I really do have a ton of work to do.'

'OK, if you sure.'

'Yeah.'

The waiter returned, took their dessert orders and soon, Gigi had a warm chocolate brownie against which vanilla ice cream melted and Charlotte nursed a cup of Lady Grey tea.

'Want some?'

'Nah, you enjoy it.'

'Charlotte?'

'Yeah?'

'I'm super glad you came.'

'So am I.'

'Sure you don't want some?'

'Yeah. No.' Charlotte used her teaspoon to snip the corner of Gigi's brownie and take a taste. 'That is nice.'

'So,' Gigi grinned. 'Change of subject. When did you decide to be friends with Sidney again?'

Charlotte sighed. This was an inevitable conversation, but she didn't necessarily want to have it. 'When he demonstrated the capacity and determination to do better.'

'Do you...' Gigi took a mouthful of brownie to eat. 'Do you think... you could ever be his girlfriend again? Like, if he asked.'

Trust Gigi to be the one to ask the direct question.

'I have no idea.'

*

With trips to Boots and H&M done, Charlotte found a room at the Premier Inn, and she and Gigi settled down to watch movies together. They had also stopped at Sainsbury's to buy an obscene amount of sweets, crisps and other snacks suitable for an afternoon and evening of films watched on Gigi's computer.

At five o'clock, when the chances of Sidney still working at least decreased to 'slightly less than certain', Gigi called him. He picked up immediately.

It was an awkward, painful conversation during which Gigi laid out the current spate of hate messages and the more extended backstory of quiet, subtle exclusion on the part of some of her classmates. She had spoken of things before, but never admitted the scale of it.

'Why didn't you tell me?' he asked. 'I mean, I'm not blaming you- I just... I would've helped you. Of course I would.'

Gigi gripped a Premier Inn pillow tightly to her chest. 'It felt like there was never a good time. And I wanted to be able to deal with it on my own.'

Sidney's voice crackled as the line faltered. 'You don't have to deal with it on your own.'

'OK.'

'You all right for now?'

'Yeah. Charlotte's here. Every time a message comes in, I'm taking a screenshot.'

'How many?'

'Six today.'

'OK. I'll... I'll figure out what we're going to do. Stay safe, Gigi.'

'OK.'

'Love you, kid.'

Gigi tossed her phone aside, eyes shining. 'I don't think he's ever said that before.'

Charlotte reached out to take her hand. 'He's trying to be his best self.'

'Pseudo-Byronic dickhead.' Several tears escaped down Gigi's face even as she laughed a little.

'Yeah. What are we watching next?'

'Skins.'

'Skins? Really?'

'I'm a poor little rich girl. Skins is to me what Downton Abbey is to normal people.'

Charlotte could not altogether argue with this assessment. 'Are we starting from the very beginning?'

'Yep!'

Almost five hours later, Gigi was newly asleep on Charlotte's bed. Most of the snacks were gone; Charlotte herself was on the knife-edge between waking and sleeping.

She was almost sitting on her phone, so when it buzzed, the vibration shot into her hipbone. 'Fuck!'

Gigi still slept on.

** Sidney Parker: **What room number are you?

Dozily, she replied without thinking. Two minutes and 23 seconds passed before a knock on the door shocked her into rigid, upright, heart-pounding wakefulness.

She shuffled across the room and looked through the peephole, then opened the door.

Sidney stood there, wheelie suitcase in hand. 'Can I come in?'

*

*

*

Right. So, this is me now. This chapter was always going to happen at about this point in the story. There were a few things I had in mind almost from the beginning, and my timing is weird and fitting and terrible.

I've thought about this a lot over the last few days. I've thought about what I can do, what I should do, and what I'm willing to ignore. For a while I've been quietly writing my stories, hoping the points I'm making will get where they need to. It's not enough.

This fandom has a racism problem. If you are personally reading this and think 'oh, but I didn't do that!' then good for you. NotAllWhatevers. This is supposedly a community, though, and everyone plays their part.

A lot of the people in this very new fandom have never taken part in online fandom before. Maybe you didn't know that similar issues have arisen in a lot of other fandoms before. But did you care to listen to non-white fans when they explained?

  * We have a collective responsibility to ensure that the welcome is extended to everyone.
  * '_Oh, I didn't know!'_ is not a fair defence when plenty of people have been speaking up and explaining why things weren't OK. Google exists. Saying 'oh, it's a symbol of hospitality in the south!' ignores the British colonial context in which Sanditon sits. And I think you know that.
  * _'But this is my escapism!'_ Did you stop to consider that non-white fans might want to find the same escapism within Sanditon and found instead the same blithely dismissive, uncaring response that they experience everywhere else?
  * If the fandom looks racist and toxic to the outside world, what makes you think that fans of colour will feel comfortable or safe within it? I acknowledge entirely that non-white fans are not a monolith and if you're happy in this fandom, I respect your choice.
  * If you agree with Rose, Crystal and fans of colour who've spoken out, have you used your white privilege to speak up in support? Because based on Twitter and FB posts, it looks like plenty of fans don't believe _them_.
  * White women's hurt feelings/offence at being even tangentially accused of racism are not more important than real Black and non-white lives and pain.
  * Maybe it's not racist to want to use a pineapple as your emoji, but uncritically rejecting the argument to skip it while yelling 'but I'm not racist!' doesn't make you look _not_ racist.
  * You object to being tarred with the same brush, but what are you doing to make sure your fandom isn't racist? What are you doing to challenge the people in high dudgeon about being asked politely to simply _do better_?
  * This isn't about politeness - it never was. There was never any way we could say 'look, this isn't cool' that would've been acceptable. Google tone policing while you're Googling, too. 
  * If you're not racist and you're letting the actual racists think that you agree with them... I've got news for you.

Consider that many non-white fans have seen this before in other fandoms and their patience is not unlimited, especially when they deal with white supremacy in its micro- and macro-aggressions every single bloody day.

I can't and won't speak for Black fans or fans of colour. I can speak to a degree for Irish ones and state very clearly that _ yes _, the potato has absolutely been used as a metaphor to demean the Irish people, even after the Famines decimated the population. Still is, by some. Because it was never about _just_ a fruit or _just _a tuber, no matter how silly it seems on the surface.

(White supremacy is a deeply unoriginal, uncreative force. It uses the same strategies and mechanisms against any group it doesn't like. You can set your watch by it.)

Some might say that this is complicated, or that there are good people on both sides or that right and wrong aren't clear.

Except it is incrediblysimple: real lives - including Black and non-white lives - matter more than our feelings about fandom being called racist or toxic. 

I've thought long and hard about what I can do to stand up for what is _right_. One thing is to donate to bail funds. Done that. Another is to say to this fandom 'Nah, this ain't it, I'm done.'

Nah, this ain't it. I'm done.


End file.
